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THE  LIBRARY 

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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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TREATISE 


ON 


S^mS^^^H^  Wmm®  ©a  I 


SHEWING 

THE  NATURE  AND  BENEFIT 

OF    THAT 

IMPORTANT  SCIENCE, 

AND 

THE  WAY  TO  ATTAIN  IT: 

INTERMIXED    WITH 

IREFLECTIONS  AND  OBSERVATIONS 

ON 

HUMAN  NAfURE. 

BY  JOHN  MASON,  A.  M. 

LEXINGTON,  KY. 

182^.    '  '        ^ 


^V'^.M^'^ 


-'^.^ 


CONTENTS: 


r53 

1^7 


Fage/ 


Dedication,  5 

Preface,  T 

PART  I. 

Chap.  I.  The  nature  and  importance  of  tlie  subject,        IS 
Cii.AP.   II.  The  several  branches  of  Self-knowledg^e. 
We  must  know  what  sort   of  creatures  we  are,  and 
what  we  shall  be,  22 

Chap.  III.  The  several  relations   wherein   we  stand 
to  God,  to  Christ,  and  our  fellow  creatures,  28 

«       Chap.  IV.  We  must  duly  consider  the  rank  and  sta- 
tion of  life  in  wliich    Providence  has  placed  us,  and 
p^      what  it  is  tliat  becomes  and  adorns  it,  4S 

^  Chap.  V.  Every  man  should  be  well  acquainted  wiih 
CO  his  own  talents  and  capacities,  and  in  what  man- 
^  ner  they  arc  to  he  exercised  and  improved  to  tlie 
oe       greatest  advantap:c,  49 

OS    Chap.   Vi.  We   must  be   well   acquainted   with  our 
S       inabilities,  and  tliose  thinj^s  in  which  we  are  natu- 
rally deficient,  as  well  as  those  in  which  w&  excel»     52 
Chap.  Vll.  Concerning   tlie  knowledge  of  our  con- 
^         slitiitional  sins,  55 

Chap.  VIII.    The  knowledge   of  our  most  dangoi'ous 

01  tempatioDS  necessary  to  self-knowledg-c,  GO 
g    Chap.  IX.  Self-knowledge  discovers   the  secret  pre- 

2  judiccs  of  the  heart,  G4 
Chap.  X.  The  necessity  and  means  of  knowing  our 

natural  temper,  77 

Chap.  XI.  Concerning  the  secret  springs  of  our  ac- 
©         tions,  84 

CiiKv.  XIT.  Every  one  that  knows  himself,  is  in  a  par- 
jr  licular  manner  sensible  how  fur  he  is  governed  by  a 

S  thirst  for  applause,  87 

■      Cirxp.  XIII.   iVhat  kind  of  knowledge  we  are  already 
furnished  with,  and  what   degree   of  esteem  we  set 
'^    upon  it,  91 

Chap.  XIV.    Concerning   the  knowledge,  guard  and 

government  of  the  thoughts,  98 

("hap.  XV.  Concerning  the  memory,  1 14 

Chap.  XVI.  Concerning  the  mental  taste,  JIB 

t-HAP.  XVII.  Of  our  great  and  governing   views  in 

life,    ^  ]04 

Chap.  XVIII.  IIow   to   know   the  true   state  of  our 
souls;  and  whether  we  are  fit  to  die,  127 


UJ 


4G1455 


i  CONTENTS, 

Pa§e 
PART  II. 

Showing  tliC  great   excellency  and  advantage  of  this 
kind  of  science, 

Chap.  I.  Self-knowledge  the  spring  of  self-possession,  131 

*'iiAP  II.  Self-knowledge  leads  to  a  wise  and  steady 
conduct,  13G 

Chap.  III.  Humility  the  effect  of  self-Imowledge,  137 

Chap.  IV.  Charity  another  effect  of  self-knowledge.     139 

(.'hap.  V.  Moderation  the  effect   of  self-knowledge,       142 

Chap.  VI.  Self-knuwletige  improves  the  judgment,        145 

C'hap.  Vll.  Self-knowledge  directs  to  the  proper  ex- 
ercise of  self-denial,  148 

CriAP.  Vlfl.  Self-knowledge  promotes  our  (isefulness 
in  the  world,  152 

Chap.  IX.  Self-knowledge  leads  to   a  decorum  and 
consistency  of  character,  155 

.    ;ap.X.  Piety  the  effect  of  self-knowledge,  158- 

Ci'Ap.  XI.  Self-knowledge  teaches  us  rightly  to  per- 
furm  the  duties  of  religion,  159 

(  HAP.  Xli.  Self-knowledge  the  best  preperation  for 
death,  163 

PART  III. 
Siiowing   how  self-knowledge  is  to  be  attained,  165 

I'uAP.    I.  Self-examination  necessary   to   self-knowl- 
edge. 168 

Chap.   II.  Constant  watchfulness   necessary   to  self- 
knowledge,  186 

Chap.  III.  We  should  have  seme  regard  to  the  cpin- 
ions  of  others  concerning  us,  particularly  of  our  en- 
emies, 188 

Chap.  IV.  Frequent  converse  with  superiors,  a  help 
to  self-knowledge,  191 

Chap.  V.  Of  cultivating  such  a  temper  as  will  be  ihe 

best  disposition  to  self-knowledge,  193 

Chap.  VI.  To  be  sensible  of  cur  false  knowledge,  a 
good  step  to  self-knowledge,  196 

Chap.  VII.  Self-inspection  peculiarly  necessary  upon 
some  particular  occasions,  199 

Chap.  VIII.  To  know  ourselves,  we  must  wholly  ab- 
stract from  external  appearances,  205 
Chap.  IX.  The  practice  of  self-knowledge  a  great 

means  to  promote  it,  20&- 

Chap.  X.  Fervent  and  frequent  prayer  the  most   ef- 
fectual means  for  attaining  true   self-knowledge,         217 
?*roTES,  2.2& 


DEDICATION. 


TO  SAMUEL  LESINGHAM,  Esq. 

TREASURER    OF    ST.    TUOMAS  S    HOSriTAL. 

SIR, 

MODESTY  and  self-diffidence  arc  llic  allowed  chari 
acleristics  of  self-knowledge.  If  tlien  my  presuming  to 
address  this  piece  to  you  may  seem  to  discover  more 
assurance  and  self-confidence  liian  hccomes  a  true  ac- 
quaintance with  the  suhject  1  write  upon,  1  have  only  this 
to  say — your  known  condescension  and  candour  have 
encouraged  that  presumption;  nor  ran  any  thing  animate 
an  address  of  this  nature  more,  than  an  assurance  that 
the  person  to  whom  it  is  made,  has  so  good  an  underfctard- 
ing  in  the  practical  part  of  tiiis  subject  as  Avill  incline  him 
to  excuse  the  defects  that  may  appear  in  the  management 
of  it. 

But  after  all,  Sir,  my  own  proficiency  in  this  science 
is  so  poor,  that  I  dare  not  be  confidcnt'l  am  nut  wrong  in 
my  views,  with  which  1  desire  this  small  tract  may  appear 
under  your  patronage.  That  it  may  have  refuge  from  the 
petulance  of  censure,  an  encouragement  in  tiie  publication, 
and  I,  at  the  same  time,  an  opportunity  of  testifying 
my  grateful  sense  of  many  past  favours,  arc  my  open 
and  avowed  ends  herein.  But  still,  whether  an  ambition 
to  be  known  to  the  world  under  the  advantage  of  your 
friendsliip,  be  not  the  secret  and  true  motive,  1  cannot  be 
certain. 

However,  if  in  this  point  I  may  be  mistaken,  there  is 
another  in  whii-h  I  think  I  cannot;  and  that  is,  that  it 
is  at  least  a  pardonable  ambition,  in  which  I  shall  cer- 
tainly stand  acquitted  by  every  one  who  ki-.ows  your 
character,  tlie  delicacy  of  your  taste  in  the  choi<:e  of  yunr 
friends,  and  the  rcu.1  honour  it  docs  to  those  you  a.rc 
pleased  to  ad.mit  into  that  number. 


^  DEDICATION. 

But,  even  this,  sir,  your  penetration  will  soon  discover 
to  proceed  from  the  same  vanity  I  before  suspected  myself 
to  be  guilty  of.  And  the  world  will  judge,  that  I  speak 
it  rather  to  do  myself  honour  than  you.  However,  I  am 
beforehand  with  them  iu  the  observation.  And  that  I 
jnay  not  be  tempted,  in  this  address,  to  enhance  your 
character  (according  to  the  usual  style  of  dedications)  in 
order  to  do  honour  to  my  own,  and  at  once  oppress  your 
modesty  and  expose  my  vanity,  I  shall  put  an  end  to  it 
without  so  much  as  attempting  to  describe  a  character, 
which  I  shall,  however,  always  aim  to  imitate. 

But  that  you  may  continue  to  adorn  that  public  and 
useful  station  you  are  in,  and  long  live  a  patron  and 
pattern  of  solid  and  disinterested  virtue;  and  that  your 
many  charitable  offices,  and  good  works  on  earth,  may 
meet  with  a  large  and  late  reward  in  heaven,  is  the  hearty 
prayer  of, 

Sir, 
Your  much  obliged,  and  very  humble  servant, 

J.  MASON. 

Dorking,  Jan.  31, 1744-r-3<. 


PREFACE. 


THE  subject  of  the  ensuing  treatise  i»  of  great  im- 
portance; and  yet  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  it 
cultivated  With  that  precision,  perspicuity,  and  force  with 
which  many  other  moral  and  ttieological  themes  have 
been  managed.  And  indeed  it  is  but  rarely  that  we  find 
it  professedly  and  fully  recommended  to  us  in  a  set  and 
regular  discourse,  either  from  the  pulpit  or  the  press. 
This  consideration,  together  with  a  full  persuaion  of  its 
great  and  extensive  usefulness,  hath  excited  the  present 
attempt  to  render  it  more  familiar  to  the  minds  of  Chris- 
ians. 

Mr.  Baxter,  indeed,  has  a  treatise  on  this  subject,  en- 
titled, The  Mischief  of  Self-lguurance,  and  the  Benefit  of 
Self-Acquaintance.  And  I  freely  acknowledge  some  helps* 
I  have  received  from  him.  But  he  hath  handled  it  (ac- 
cording to  his  manner)  in  so  lax  and  diffuse  a  way,  intro- 
ducing so  many  things  into  it  that  are  foreign  from  it, 
omitting  others  that  properly  belong  to  it,  and  skimmin"- 
over  some  with  a  too  superficial  notice,  that  I  own  1  found 
myself  much  disappointed  in  what  I  expected  from  liira;  and 
was  convinced  that  something  more  correct,  nervous,  and 
methodical,  was  wanting  on  this  subject. 

1  am  far  from  having  the  vanity  to  think  that  this  which 
I  now  offer  to  the  public,  is  entirely  free  from  tliose  faults 
which  1  have  remarked  in  that  pious  and  excellent  au- 
thor; and  am  sensible,  that  if  1  do  not  fall  under  a  much 
heavier  censure  myself,  it  must  be  owing  to  the  great  can- 
dour of  my  reader,  which  he  will  be  convinced  I  have 
some  title  to,  if  he  but  duly  consider  the  nature  and  ex- 
tent of  the  subject.  For  it  is  almost  impossible  to  Idt  the 
thoughts  run  freely  upon  so  copious  and  comprehensive  a 
theme,  in  order  to  do  justice  to  it,  without  taking  too  large 
a  scope  in  some  particulars  that  have  a  close  connexion 
with  it;  as  I  fear  1  have  done  (Part  I.  Ciiap.  XIV.)  con- 
cerning the  kuowiedge,  guard  uud  goveruiuent  ef  the 
thoughts. 


^ 


•»  PREFACE. 

But  there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  short,  occa- 
sional and  useful  digression,  and  wide  rambling  from  the 
subject,  by  following  the  impulse  of  a  luxuriant  fancy.  A 
judicious  taste  can  hardly  excuse  the  latter;  though  it 
may  be  content  the  author  should  gather  a  few  flowers  out 
of  the  common  road,  provided  he  soon  returns  into  it 
again. 

This  brings  to  my  mind  another  thing,  for  which,  I  am 
sure,  I  have  great  reason  to  claim  the  reader's  indulgence; 
and  that  is,  the  free  use  I  have  made  of  some  of  the  an- 
cient heathen  writers,  in  my  marginal  quotations,  which  I 
own  looks  like  an  ostentation  of  reading,  which  I  always 
abhorred.  But  it  was  conversing  with  those  authors  that 
first  turned  my  thoughts  to  this  subject.  And  the  good 
sense  I  met  with  in  most  of  their  aphorisms  and  sentiments 
gave  me  an  esteem  for  them;  and  made  it  difficult  for 
me  to  resist  the  temptation  of  transcribing  several  of 
them,  which  I  thought  pertinent  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
In  this  edition,  they  are  placed  at  the  close  of  the  work; 
and  if  the  reader  thinks  they  will  too  much  interrupt  the 
course  of  the  subject,  he  may  entirely  omit  reading  them, 
though  by  that  means  he  will  perhaps  lose  the  benefit  of 
some  of  the  finest  sentiments  in  the  book. 

I  remember  a  modern  writer,  I  have  very  lately  read, 
is  grievously  offended  whh  Mr.  Addison  for  so  much  as 
mentioning  the  name  of  Plato,  and  presuming  in  one  of 
his  Spectators  to  deliver  his  notions  of  humour  in  a  kind 
of  allegory,  ^fter  the  manner  of  that  Greek  author;  which 
he  calls  a  formal  method  of  trifling,  introduced  under  a 
deep  ostentation  of  learning,  which  deserves  the  severest 
rebuke.  And  perhaps  a  more  severe  one  was  never  given 
upon  so  small  a  provocation.  From  gentlemen  of  so  re- 
fined and  delicate  a  taste  I  can  expect  no  mercy.  But 
the  public  is  to  judge,  whether  this  be  not  as  culpable  an 
affectation  as  the  contrary  one,  which  prevailed  so  much 
in  the  last  century. 

One  great  view  I  had  in  mine  eye,  when  I  put  these 
thoughts  together,  was  the  benefit  of  youth,  and  especially 
those  of  them  that  are  students  and  candidates  for  the  sa- 
cred ministry;  for  which  they  will  find  no  science  more 
immediately  necessary  (next  to  a  good  acquaintance  with 
the  word  of  God)  than  that  which  is  recommended  to 
them  in  the  following  treatise;  to  which  every  branch  of 
human  litcrsiture  is  subordinate,  and  ought  to  be  subservi' 


S^^ 


PREFACE.  9 

eat.  For  certaift  it  is,  the  great  end  of  philosophy,  both 
natural  and  moral,  is  to  know  ourselves  and  to  know- 
God.  The  highest  learni.ior  is  to  be  wise,  and  the  great- 
est wisdom  is  to  be  good;  as  Marcus  Antoninus  some- 
where observes. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  my  mind,  in  digesting  my 
thoughts  upon  this  subject,  what  a  pity  it  is  that  this  most 
useful  science  should  be  so  generally  neglected  in  the 
modern  methods  of  education;  and  that  preceptors  and 
tutors,  both  in  public  and  private  seminaries  of  learning, 
should  foro-et  that  the  forming  the  manners  is  more  neces- 
sary to  a  finished  education  than  furnishing  tie  minds  of 
youth.  Socrates,  who  made  all  his  philusopliy  subservi- 
ent to  morality,  was  of  this  sentiment;  and  took  more 
pains  to  rectify  the  tempers  than  replenish  the  under- 
standings of  his  pupils;  and  looked  upon  all  ki  owlcdge 
as  useless  speculation,  that  was  not  brosight  to  this  end, 
to  make  us  wiser  and  better  men.  And,  without  dcubt< 
if  in  the  academy  the  youth  has  Oiice  happily  learned  the 
great  art  of  irianaging  his  temper,  governing  his  passions, 
and  guarding  his  i"oibles,  he  will  find  a  more  solid  advan- 
tage from  it  in  after  life,  tliau  he  could  expect  from  the 
belt  acquaintance  with  all  the  systems  of  ancient  and 
modern  philosophy. 

It  was  a  very  just  and  sensible  answer,  which  Agcsi- 
laus,  the  Spartan  King,  returned  to  one  who  asked  him. 
What  it  was  in  which  youth  ought  principally  to  be  in- 
structed? He  replied.  That  which  they  have  most  need 
to  practise  when  they  are  men.  Were  this  single  rule 
but  carefully  attended  to  in  the  method  of  educaticm,  it 
might  probably  be  conducted  in  a  manner  much  more  to 
the' advantage  of  our  youth  than  it  ordinarily  is.  For,  as 
Dr.  Fuller  observes,  that  pains  we  take  in  books  or  arts, 
wliich  t rcaTofthings  remote  from  the  use  of  life,  is  but  a 
busy  idleness.  And  what  is  there  in  life  which  youth 
will  have  a  more  frequent  occasion  to  jiractisc  than  this"? 
What  is  there  which  tliey  afterwards  more  regret  the  want 
of!  What  is  tiiere  in  wJiich  tiiey  want  more  direction  and 
assitance  than  the  right  government  of  their  passions  and 
prejudices!  And  wiiat  more  proper  season  to  receive 
those  assistances,  and  to  lay  a  foundation  for  this  diilicult 
but  very  important  science,  than  tli€  early  part  of  youth! 
It  may  be  said,  "It  is  pnqurly  the  office  and  care  of 
parents  to  watch  over  and  correct  the  tempers  of  their 


I^  PREFACB. 

children  in  the  first  years  of  their  infancy,  when  it  may 
easiest  be  done."  But  if  it  be  not  done  effectually  then, 
(as  it  very  seldom  is)  there  is  the  more  necessity  for  it 
afterwards.  But  the  truth  is,  it  is  the  proper  office  and 
care  of  all  who  have  the  charge  of  youth,  and  ought  to 
be  looked  upon  as  the  most  important  and  necessary  part 
of  education, 

It  was  the  observatioji  of  a  great  divine  and  reformer, 
that  he  who  acquires  his  learning  at  the  expense  of  his 
morals,  is  the  worse  for  his  education.  And  we  may  add, 
that  he  who  does  not  improve  his  temper,  together  with 
his  understanding,  is  not  much  the  Letter  for  it.  for 
he  ought  to  measure  his  progress  in  science  by  the  im- 
provement of  his  morals;  and  remember  that  he  is  no 
no  further  a  learned  man  than  he  is  a  wise  and  good  man; 
and  that  he  cannot  be  a  finished  philosopher  till  he  is  a 
Christian.  But  whence  is  it  that  moral  philosophy,  which 
was  so  carefully  cultivated  in  the  ancient  academy,  should 
be  forced  in  the  modern  to  give  place  to  natural,  that 
was  oricrinally  d  signed  to  be  subservient  to  it^  Which 
is  to  exalt  the  handmaid  into  the  place  of  the  mistress. 
This  appears  not  only  a  preposterous  but  a  pernicious 
method  of  instruction.  For  as  the  mind  takes  a  turn  of 
thought  in  future  life,  suitable  to  the  tincture  it  hath  re- 
ceived in  youth,  it  will  naturally  conclude,  that  there  is 
no  necessity  to  regard,  or  at  least  to  lay  any  stress  upon, 
what  was  never  inculcated  upon  it  as  a  matter  of  import- 
ance then.  And  so  will  grow  up  in  a  neglect  or  disesteem 
of  those  things  whicli  are  more  necessary  to  make  a  per- 
son a  wise  and  truly  understanding  man,  than  all  those  ru- 
diments of  science  he  brought  with  him  from  the  school  or 
college. 

It  is  really  a  melancholy  thing  to  see  a  young  gentle- 
man of  sliining  parts,  and  a  sweet  disposition,  who  has 
gone  through  the  common  course  of  academical  studies, 
come  out  into  the  world  under  an  absolute  government 
of  his  passions  and  prejudices:  which  have  increased  with 
his  learning,  and  which,  when  he  comes  to  be  better  ac- 
quainted with  human  life  and  human  nature,  he  is  soon 
sensible  and  ashamed  of;  but  perhaps  is  never  able  to 
conquer  as  long  as  he  lives,  for  want  of  that  assistance 
which  he  ought  to  have  received  in  his  education.  For  a 
wrong  education  is  one  of  those  three  things  to  which  it  is 
owing  (as   an   ancient   Christian   and  philosopher  justly 


rREFACE. 


A 


obserres)  that  so  few  have  the  right  government  of  their 
passions. 

I  would  not  be  thought  to  depreciate  any  part  of  liu^ 
jnan  literature,  but  should  be  glad  to  see  this  most  use- 
ful branch  6f  science,  tije  knowledge  of  the  heart,  the 
detecting  and  correcting  turtful  prejudices,  and  the  right 
government  of  tlie  temper  and  passions,  in  more  general 
esteem;  as  necessary  at  once  to  form  the  geutlemau,  the 
scholar,  and  the  Christian- 

And  if  there  be  any  thing  in   this   short   treatise  wliich 
may  be  helpful  to  students,  who  have  a  regard  to  the  right 
government   of  their   minds,   whilst    they    are   furnisliing 
hem  with  useful  knowledge,  I  would   particularly  recom- 
mend it  to  their  perusal. 

1  have  nothing  further  to  add,  but  to  desire  the  read- 
er's excuse  for  the  freedom  with  which  I  have  delivered 
my  sentiments  in  this  matter,  and  for  detaining  him  so 
long  from  his  subject;  which  1  now  leave  to  his  candid  and 
serious   thoughts,   and  Ibe  blessing  of  Almighty    God   ^ 

mi^«  it  ueefiU  to  hi/a^ 


A 
iTtEATlSE 


OM 


ommi^^miro  w^iB  ©^1 


egi<> 


PART  L 


CHAPTER  1. 

7'Ac  JYatiwe  and  Importance  of  the  Subject. 
-.1' 

A  DESIRE  of  knowledge  is  natural  to 
the  mind  of  man.  And  nothing  discovers 
the  true  quality  and  disposition  of  the  mind 
more,  than  the  particular  kind  of  knowl- 
edge it  is  most  fond  of 

Thus  we  see  that  low  and  little  minds 
are  most  delightejd  with  tlie  knowledge  of 
trifles;  as  in  children.  An  indolent  mind, 
with  that  which  serves  only  for  amusement, 
or  tlic  entertainment  of  tlie  fancy.  A  cu- 
rious mind  is  hest  pleased  with  facts.  A 
judicious,  penetrating  mind,  with  demon- 
stration   and    mathematical    science.     A 

worldly  mind   esteems  no  knowledge  like 

9 


14  THE  NATURE  AND  IMPORTANCE 

that  of  the  world.  But  a  wise  and  piou? 
inan,  before  all  other  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge, prefers  that  of  God  and  his  own  soul. 

But  some  kind  of  knowledge  or  other 
the  mind  is  continually  craving  after.  And 
by  considering  what  that  is,  its  prevailing 
turn  and  temper  may  easily  be  known. 

This  desire  of  knowledge,  like  other  af- 
fections planted  in  our  nature,  vvill  be  very 
apt  to  lead  us  wrong,  if  it  be  not  well  reg- 
ulated. When  it  is  directed  to  improper 
objects,  or  pursued  in  a  wrong  manner,  it 
degenerates  into  a  vain  and  criminal  curi- 
osity. A  fatal  instance  of  this  in  our  first 
parents  wo  have  upon  sacred  record:  the 
vmhappy  effects  of  which  are  but  too  visi- 
ble in  all. 

Self-knowledge  is  the  subject  of  the  en- 
suing treatise,  A  subject  which,  the  more 
I  think  of,  the  more  important  and  exten- 
sive it  appears.  So  important,  that  every 
branch  of  it  seems  absolutely  necessary  to 
the  right  government  of  the  life  and  tem- 
per. And  so  extensive,  that  the  nearer 
view  we  take  of  its  several  branches,  the 
more  are  still  opening  to  view,  as  nearly 
connected  with  it  as  the  other.  Like  what  we 
find  in  microscopical  observations  on  natu- 
ral objects.  The  better  the  glasses,  and  the 
Hearer  the  scrutinv.  the  more  wonders  we 


OF  SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  15 

explore;  and  llic  more  surprising  discover- 
ies we  make  of  certain  properties,  parts  or 
affections  belonging  to  them,  which  were 
never  before  thought  of.  For  in  order  to  a 
true  self-knowledge,  the  human  mind,v/itli 
its  various  powers  and  operations,  must  be 
narrowly  inspected,  nil  its  secret  bcndings 
and  doublings  displayed.  Otherwise  our 
self-acquaintance  will  be  but  very  partial 
and  defective  ;  and  the  heart,  after  all,  will 
deceive  us.  So  that,  in  treating  tiiis  sub- 
ject, tliere  is  no  small  danger,  either  of  do- 
ing injury  to  it,  by  slight  and  superficial  in- 
quest on  the  one  hand,  or  of  running  into  a 
research  too  minute  and  philosophical  for 
common  use  o-n  the  other.  The  two  ex- 
tremes I  shall  keep  in  my  eye,  and  endeav- 
our to  steer  a  middle  course  between  them. 

Know  thyself,  i?  one  of  the  most  useful 
and  comprehensive  precepts  in  the  whole 
moral  system.  And  a  is  well  known  in 
how  great  a  veneration  this  maxim  was 
held  by  the  ancients;  and  in  how  high  es- 
teem the  duty  of  self-examination,  as  ne- 
cessary to  it. 

Thales,  the  Milesian,  is  said  to  be  the 
first  author  of  it ;  [1]  who  used  to  say,  that 


[1]  See  the  Notes  at  the  end  of  this  work.     All  the 
figures  inclosed  in  brackets,  refer  to  those  Notes^ 


16      THE  NATURE  AND  IMPORTANCE 

for  a  man  to  know  liiraself  is  tlie  hardest 
thing  in  the  world.  It  was  afterwards 
adopted  by  Chylon,the  Lacedemonian ;  and 
is  one  of  those  three  precepts  vA'hich  Pliny 
affirms  to  have  been  consecrated  at  Delphos 
in  golden  letters.  It  was  afterwards  great- 
ly admired  and  frequently  used  by  others; 
[2]  till  at  length,  it  acquired  the  authority 
of  a  divine  oracle :  and  was  supposed  to 
have  been  given  originally  by  Apollo  him- 
self. Of  which  general  opinion  Cicero 
gives  us  this  reason:  "Because  it  hath  such 
a  weight  of  sense  and  wisdom  in  it  as  ap- 
pears too  great  to  be  attributed  to  any 
man."  [3]  And  this  opinion  of  its  coming 
originally  from  Apollo  himself,  perhaps  was 
the  reason  that  it  v,as  written  in  golden 
capitals  over  the  door  of  his  temple  at 
Delplios. 

And  why  this  excellent  precept  should 
not  be  held  in  as  hi?:h  esteein  in  the  Chris- 
tian world  as  it  was  in  the  heathen,  is  hard 
to  conceive.  Human  nature  is  the  same 
now  as  it  was  then.  The  heart  is  as  de- 
ceitful ;  and  the  necessity  of  watching, 
knowing,  and  keeping  it,  the  same.  Nor 
are  we  less  assured  that  this  precept  is  di- 
vine. Nay,  we  have  a  much  greater  assu- 
rance of  this  than  the  heathens  had;  they 
supposed  it  came  down  from  heaven,  we 


QF  SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  17 

know  it  did:  what  they  conjectured,  wc 
are  sure  of.  For  this  sacred  oracle  is  dic- 
tated to  us  in  a  manifold  light,  and  ex- 
plained to  us  in  various  views  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  that  revelation  which  Gou  hath 
been  pleased  to  give  us  as  our  guide  to  du- 
ty and  happiness;  by  which,  as  in  a  glass, 
we  may  survey  ourselves,  and  know  what 
manner  of  persons  we  are.  (James  i.  23.) 

This  discovers   ourselves  to  us;  pierces 
into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  mind  ;  strips 
off  every   disguise;  lays   open   the  inward 
part;  makes  a  strict  scrutiny  into  the  very 
soul  and  spirit,  and  critically  judges  of  thc 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart.     It  shows 
us  with  what  exactness  and  care  we  are  to 
search  and   try    our    spirits,   examine  our- 
selves, and  watch  our  ways,  and  keep  our 
Jiearts,  in  order  to   acij^uire   this  important 
self-science;  which  it  often  calls  us  to  do. 
Examine    yourselves.     Prove     your     own 
selves;  know  ye  not  yourselves'/  [4]     Let 
a  man  examine  himself.  (1  Cor.  xi.  28.)  Our 
Saviour   upbraids  his  disciples  with  tlieiv 
self-ignorance,  in  not  knowing  what  man- 
ner  of  spirit    they   were   of.   (Luke  ix.  55.) 
And,  saith  the  apostle,   If  a  man  (through 
self-ignorance)     thinketh     himself    to    be 
something,  when  he  is  nothing,  jic  deceiv- 
oth  himself.     But  let  every  man  niovc  his 


18      THE  NATURE  AND  IMPORTANCE 

work,  and  then  shall  he  have  rejoicing  ia 
himself,  and  not  in  another.  (Gal.v.3.)  Here 
we  are  com  m  a  nded,  instead  of  judging  a.thers, 
to  judge  ourselves;  and  to  avoid  the  in- 
excusable rashness  of  condemning  others 
for  the  very  crimes  we  ourselves  are  guil- 
ty of,  (Rom.  ii.  1,  21,  22,)  which  a  self-ig- 
norant man  is  very  apt  to  do;  nay,  to  be 
more  offended  at  a  small  blemish  in  anotb- 
er'*s  character,  than  at  a  greater  in  his 
own;  which  folly,  self-ignorance,  and  hy- 
pocrisy, our  Saviour,  with  just  severity,  ani- 
madverts upon,  Matthew  vii.  3 — 5. 

And  what  stress  was  laid  upon  this  un- 
der the  Old  Testament  disj)ensation,  ap- 
pears sufficiently  from  those  expressions — 
Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence.  (Prov.  iv. 
23.)  Commune  with  your  own  heart.  (Psal. 
iv.  4.)  Search  me  O,  God,  and  know  my 
heart ;  try  nte,  and  know  mv  thoughts.  (Psal. 
cxxxix.  23.)  Examine  me, O  Lord,  and  prove 
me  ;  try  my  reins  and  my  heart.  (Psal.  xxvi. 
2.)  'Let  US  search  and  try  our  ways.  (Lam. iii. 
4.)  Recollect  [5J  yourselves,  O  nation  not 
desired.  (Zeph.  ii.  1.)  And  all  this  is  ne- 
cessary to  that  self-acquaintance  which 
is  the  only  proper  basis  of  solid  peace.  [6] 

Were  mankind  but  more  generally  con- 
vinced of  the  imporlnnce  and  necessity  of 
tlusself-knowledge,aadpossessedwithadu€ 


«r  SELF-KNOWLEDGE,  l9 

<iSteem  for  it;  did  they  but  know  the  true 
way  to  attain  it;  and  under  a  proper  sense 
of  its  excellence,  ancT  the  fatal  effects  of 
self-injnorance,  did  they  but  make  it  their 
business  and  study  every  day  to  cultivate 
it;  how  soon  should  we  find  a  happy  al- 
teration in  the  manners  and  spirits  of  men! 
— But  the  misery  of  it  is,  men  will  not 
think;  will  not  employ  their  thoughts  in 
good  earnest,  about  the  things  which  most 
of  all  deserve  and  demand  them.  By  which 
unaccountable  indolence,  and  aversion  to 
self-reflection,  they  are  led  blindfold  and  in- 
sensibly into  the  most  dangerous  paths  of 
infidelity  and  wickedness,  as  the  Jews 
were  heretofore:  of  whose  amazing  ingrat- 
itude and  apostacy  God  himself  assigns  this 
single  cause — My  people  do  not  consider, 
(Isaiah,  i.  3.)    [7] 

Self-knowledge  is  that  acquaintance 
with  ourselves,  which  shows  us  wliat  we 
are,  and  do,  and  ought  to  be,  and  do  in  or- 
der to  our  living  conifortabiy  and  usefully 
here,  and  happily  hereafter.  The  means 
of  it  is  self-examination:  the  end  of  it  self- 
government,  and  self-fruition.  It  principal- 
1}^  consists  in  the  knowledge  of  our  souls; 
which  is  attained  by  a  particular  attention 
to  their  various  powers,  capacities,  j-.as- 
sions,  inclinytions,  operations,  state,  hap- 


20      THE  NATURE  AND  IMPORTANCE 

piness  and  temper.  For  a  man's  soul  is 
properly  himself.  Matt.  xvi.  26,  compar- 
ed with  Luke  ix.  25.  [8J  The  body  is  but 
the  house,  the  soul  is  the  tenant  that  in- 
habits it:  the  body  is  the  instrument,  the 
soul  the  artist  that  directs  it.     [9J 

This  science,  which  is  to  be  the  subject 
of  the  ensuing  treatise,  hath  these  three  pe- 
culiar properities  in  it,  which  distinguish  it 
from,  and  render  it  preferable  to  all  others. 
— 1.     It  is  equally  attainable  by  all.     It  re- 
quires no  strength  of  memory,  no  force  of 
genius,  no  depth    of  penetration ;   as  many 
other  sciences  do,  to  come  at  a  tolerable 
degree  of  acquaintance  with  them;  which 
therefore  renders  them  inaccessible  to  the 
greatest  ]jart  of  mankind.     Nor  is  it  pla- 
ced out  of  their  reach  through  a  want  of 
opportunity,  and  proper  assistance  and  di- 
rection how  to  acquire  it;  as  many  other 
parts    of   learning    are.     Every    one   of   a 
common  capacity  hath  the  opportunity  and 
ability  to  attain     it,    if  he  will  but  recol- 
lect his   rambling   tlioughts,   turn    them  in 
upon    himself,  watch    the    motions    of  his 
heart,  and  compare  them  with  his  rule. — 2. 
It  is  of  equal  importance  to  all,  and  of  the 
highest  importance  to  every  one.  [10]  Oth- 
er sciences  are  suited  to  the  various  con- 
ditions of  life.     Some,  more  necessary  to 


OF  SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  21 

V 

some;  others,  to  otl\ers.  But  this  equally 
concerns  every  one  that  hath  an  immortal 
soul,  whose  final  happiness  he  desires  and 
seeks. — !3.  Other  knowledge  is  very  apt  to 
make  a  man  vain;  this  always  keeps  him 
humble.  JVay,  it  is  for  want  of  this  knowl- 
edge that  men  are  vain  of  that  they  have. 
Knovvledgepuffethup.  (iCor.viii.  1.)  A  small 
degree  of  knowledge  often  hath  this  effect  on 
weak  minds.  And  the  reason  why  greater 
attainments  in  it  have  not  so  generally  the 
same  effect,  is,  because  they  open  and  en- 
large the  views  of  the  mind  so  far,  as  to 
let  into  it  at  the  same  time  a  gocd  degree 
of  self-knowledge.  For  the  more  true 
knowledge  a  man  hath,  the  more  sensible 
he  is  of  the  want  of  it;  which  keeps  him 
iuimble. 

And  now,  reader,  whoever  thou  art, 
whatever  be  th\  character,  station,  or  dis- 
tinction in  life,  if  thou  art  afraid  to  look  in- 
to thine  heart,  and  hast  no  inclination  to 
self-acquaintance,  read  no  farther:  lay 
aside  this  book;  for  thou  wilt  find  nothing 
here  that  will  flatter  thy  self-esteem;  but 
perhaps  something  that  may  abate  it.  But 
if  thou  art  desirous  to  cultivate  this  im])ort- 
ant  kind  of  knowledge,  and  to  live  no 
longer  a  stranger  to  thyself,  proceed;  and 
keep  thy  eye  open  to  thy  own  image,  with 


22  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

whatever  unexpected  deformity  it  may 
present  itself  to  thee;  and  patiently  at- 
tend, whilst, by  divine  assistance,  I  endeav- 
our to  lay  open  thine  own  heart  to  thee, 
and  to  lead  thee  to  the  true  knowledge  of 
thyself,  in  the  following  Chapters 


CHAP.  II. 

The  several  Branches  of  Self- Knowledge. 
We  must  know  ichat  sort  of  Creatures  ive 
arc,  and  what  we  shall  be. 

That  we  may  have  a  more  distinct 
and  orderly  view  of  this  subject,  I  shall 
here  consider  the  several  branches  of  self- 
knowledge;  or  some  of  the  chief  particu- 
lars wherein  it  consists.  Whereby,  per- 
haps, it  will  appear  to  be  a  more  copious 
and  comprehensive  science  than  we  ima- 
gine.    And, 

I.  To  know  ourselves,  is  to  know  and 
seriously  consider  what  sort  of  creatures 
we  are,  and  what  we  shall  be. 

].     What  we  are.  , 

Man  is  a  complex  being,  trimeres  upos- 
tasis,  3.  tripartite  person;  or  a  compound 
creature  made  up  of  three  distinct  parts. 


DOTH  CONSIST.  23 

Viz.  the  body,  which  is  the  earthly  or  mor- 
tal part  of  him;  the  soul,  which  is  the 
animal  or  sensitive  part;  and  the  spirit  or 
mind,  which  is  the  rational  and  immor- 
tal part.  [II  j  Each  of  these  three  parts 
have  their  respective  offices  assigned  them. 
And  a  man  then  acts  becoming  himself, 
when  he  keeps  them  employed  in  their 
proper  functions,  and  preserves  their  na- 
tural subordination. — But  it  is  not  enough 
to  know  this  merely  as  a  point  of  specula- 
tion; we  must  pursue  and  revolve  the 
thought,  and  urge  the  consideration  to  all 
the  purposes  of  a  practical  self-acquaint- 
ance. 

We  are  not  all  body,  nor  mere  animal 
creatures.  We  find  we  have  a  more  noble 
nature  than  the  inanimate  or  brutal  part  of 
the  creation.  We  can  not  only  move  and 
act  freely,  but  we  observe  in  ourselves  a 
capacity  of  reflection,  study  and  forecast, 
and  various  mental  operations,  which  irra- 
tional animals  discover  no  symptoms  of. 
Our  souls,  therefore,  must  be  of  a  more  ex- 
cellent nature  than  theirs;  and  from  the 
power  of  thought  with  which  they  are  en- 
dowed, they  are  proved  to  be  immnterial 
substances.  And  consequently,  in  their  own 
nature,  capable  of  immortality.  And  that 
they  are  actually  immortal,  or  will  never 
die,  the  sacred  scriptures  do  abundantly 


M 


WHEREIN  SELF-KNO\VLEDGi; 


testify.  [12]  Let  us  then  hereupon  seri- 
ously  recollect  ourselves  in  the  following 
soliloquy. 

"O  my  soul,  look  back  but  a  (ew  years, 
and  thou  wast  nothing !— And  how  didst  thoii 
spring  out  of  that  nothing? — thou  couldst 
not  make  thyself.  That  is  quite  impossi- 
ble.— Most  certain  it  is,  that  that  almighty, 
self-existent  and  eternal  Power,  which 
inade  the  world  made  thee  also  out  of  noth- 
ing ;  called  thee  into  being,  when  thou  wast 
not;  gave  thee  these  reasoning  and  reflect- 
ing  faculties,  which  thou  art  nov/  employ- 
ing in  searching  out  the  end  and  happiness 
of  thy  nature.  It  was  He,  O  my  soul,  that 
made  thee  intelligent  and  immortal.  It  was 
He  that  placed  thee  in  this  body,  as  in  a 
prison,  where  thy  capacities  are  cramped, 
thy  desires  debased,  and  thy  liberty  lost.— - 
It  was  He  that  sent  thee  into  this  world, 
whicli,  by  all  circumstances,  appears  to  be 
a  state  of  short  discipline  and  trial.  And 
wherefore  did  he  place  thee  here,  when  he 
might  have  made  thee  a  more  free,  uncon- 
fmed,  and  happy  spirit? — But  check  that 
thought;  it  looks  like  a  too  presumptuous 
curiosity, — A  more  needftil  and  important 
inquiry  is— What  did  he  place  thee  here 
for? — .^nd  what  doth  he  expect  from  thee 
whilst  thou  art  here? — What  part  hath  he 


DWTH  CONSl.S,T.  2.) 

allotted  me  to  act  on  the  stage  of  humnn  life  ; 
where  He,  angels  and  men  are  spectatorrs 
of  my  behaviour?  The  part  he  hath  given 
me  to  act  here  is,  doubtless,  a  very  import- 
ant one;  becrinse  it  is  for  eternity.  [13] 
And  what  is  it  but  to  live  up  to  the  dignity 
of  my  rational  and  intellectual  nature; 
and  fis  becomes  a  creature  born  for  innnor- 
taliT\  ? 

"And  tell  me,  O  my  soul,  (for  as  I  am 
now  about  to  cultivate  a  better  acquaint- 
ance with  thee,  to  whom  I  have  been  too 
long  a  stranger,  I  must  try  thee,  and  put 
many  a  close  question  to  thee,)  tell  rac,  I 
say,  whilst  thou  confinest  thy  desire  to 
sensual  gratifications,  wherein  dost  thou 
differ  from  the  blasts  that  perish?  Capti- 
vated by  bodily  appetites,  dost  thou  not 
act  beneath  thyself?  Dost  thou  not  put 
thyself  upon  a  level  with  the  lower  class 
of  beings,  which  were  made  to  serve  thee, 
offer  an  indignity  to  thyself,  and  despise 
the  work  of  thy  Maker's  iiands?  O,  re- 
member thy  heavenly  extract!  Remember 
thou  art  a  sjjirit!  Check  then  the  solicita- 
tions of  the  fiesh,  and  dare  to  do  noiliino- 
that  may  diminisli  thy  native  excellence, 
dishonour  thy  high  original,  or  degrade  thy 
noble  nature.  [14]  But  let  me  still  urge  it. 
Consider,  I  say,  O  mv  soul,  tliat  thou  art 

*3 


26  V/HEREII^  SELF-KKOWLEDGJJ 

an  immortal  spirit.  Thy  body  dies;  \m% 
thou,  thou  must  live  forever,  and  thine  eter- 
nity will  take  its  tincture  from  the  manner 
of  thy  behaviour,  and  the  habits  thou  con- 
tractest,  during  this  thy  short  copartner- 
ship vvith  flesh  and  blood.  O!  do  nothing 
nov/,  but  what  thou  mayest  with  pleasure 
look  back  upon  a  million  of  ages  hence. 
For  know,  O  my  soul,  that  thy  self-consci- 
ousness and  reflecting  faculties  will  not 
leave  thee  with  thy  body;  but  will  follow 
thee  after  death,  and  be  the  instrument  of 
unspeakable  pleasure  or  torment  to  thee 
in  that  separate  state  of  existence."     [15] 

2.  In  order  to  a  full  acquaintance  with 
ourselvesy  we  must  endeavour  to  know  not 
only  what  we  are,  but  what  we  shall  be. 

And  O!  what  different  creatures  shall 
we  soon  be,  from  what  we  now  are!  Let 
us  look  forwards,  then,  and  frequently 
glance  our  thoughts  towards  death; 
though  they  cannot  penetrate  the  dark- 
ness of  that  passage,  or  reach  the  state 
behind  it.  That  lies  veiled  from  the  eyes 
of  our  mind ;  and  the  great  God  hath  not 
thought  fit  to  throw  so  much  light  upon  it, 
as  to  satisfy  the  anxious  and  inquisitive  de- 
sires the  soul  hath  to  know  it.  However, 
let  us  make  the  best  use  we  can  of  that 
little   light   which    scripture    aud    reason 


DOTII  CONSIST  27 

have  let  in  upon  this  dark  and  important 
subject. 

"Compose;  thy  tlioualits,  O  my  soul,  and 
imagine  how  it  will  fare  with  tlice,  ^^  hen 
thou  goest  a  naked,  unemhodied  spirit,  in- 
to a  world,  an  unknown  world,  of  spirits, 
with  all  thy  selt-consciousness  about  tliee, 
where  no  material  object  shall  strike  thine 
eye;  and  where  thy  dear  partner  and  com- 
panion, the  body,  cannot  come  nigh  thee; 
but  where,  witliout  it,  thou  wilt  be  sensible 
of  the  most  noble  satisfactions,  or  the  most 
exquisite  pains.  Embarked  in  death,  thy 
passage  will  i)e  dark;  and  the  shore  on 
which  it  will  land  thee,  altogether  "strange 

and  unknown. It   doth   not  yet  appear 

what  we  shall  be."      [16] 

That  revelation,  which  God  hath  heen 
pleased  to  make  of  his  will  to  mankind,  was 
designed  rather  to  fit  us  for  the  future  hap- 
piness, and  direct  our  way  to  it,  than  open 
to  us  the  particular  glories  of  it;  or  dis- 
tinctly show  us  what  it  is.  This  it  hath 
left  still  very  much  a  mystery:  to  check 
our  too  curious  inquiries  into  the  nature  of 
it,  and  to  bend  our  thoughts  more  intently 
to  that  which  more  concerns  us,  vi/.  an 
habitual  preparation  for  it.  Au(\  what 
that  is,  we  cannot  be  ignorant  of,  if  we  be- 
lieve either  our  Bible  or  our  reason.     For 


28  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

both  these  assure  us,  that  that  which 
makes  us  like  to  God,  is  the  only  tiling  that 
can  fit  us  for  the  enjoyment  of  him.  Here 
then  ict  us  hold.  Let  our  g'reat  concern 
be,  to  be  holy  as  he  is  holy.  And  then, 
then  only,  are  we  sure  to  enjoy  liim,  in 
whose  light  we  shall  see  ]ight.  And  be 
the  future  state  of  existence  what  it  will, 
we  shall  some  way  be  happy  there.  Ard 
much  more  iuippy  than  we  cai:-  now  con- 
ceive; thougii  in  what  particular  manner 
we  know  not,  because  God  hath  not  reveal- 
ed it. 


CHAP  III. 

The  several  relations  wherein  ice  stand  to  God, 
to  Christ,  a7id  our  Fellow-creatures. 

Self-knowledge  requires  us  to  be  well 
acquainted  with  the  various  relations  in 
wliich  we  stand  to  other  beings,  and  the 
several  duties  that  result  from  those  rela- 
tions.    And. 

].  Our  first  and  principal  concern  is,  to 
consider  the  relation  wiierein  we  stand  to 
Him  wbr^  gave  us  being. 

We  are  the  creatures  of  his  hand,  and 
the  objects   of  his   care.     His  jiower  up- 


DOTH  CONSIST.  29 

holds  the  being  his  goodness  gave  us. 
His  bounty  accommodates  iis  with  the  blcs 
sings  of  this  life,  and  liis  grace  provides 
for  us  the  happiness  of  a  better. — Nor  arc 
we  merely  his  creatures,  but  his  rational 
and  intelligent  creatures.  It  is  the  dignity 
of  our  natures,  that  nvc  are  capable  of 
knowing  and  enjoying  him  that  made  us. 
And  as  the  rational  creatures  of  God, 
there  are  two  relations  especially  that  we 
bear  to  him;  the  frequent  consideration  of 
which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  a  right 
self-knowledge.  For  as  our  Creator,  he  is 
our  king  and  father.  And  as  his  creatures, 
we  are  the  subjects  of  his  kingdom,  and 
the  children  of  his  family. 

1st.  Wc  are  the  subjects  of  his  king- 
dom.    And  as  sucii  we  are  bound, 

1.  To  yield  a  faithfid  obedievncc  to  the 
laws  of  his  kingdom.— And  the  advan- 
tages by  wbicii  these  conic  recommended 
to  us  above  a1i  luiman  laws  are  many. — 
They  are  calculated  for  the  private  inter- 
est of  every  one,  as  well  as  that  of  the  i)ub- 
lic;  and  are  designed  to  promote  our  pres- 
ent as  well  as  our  future  happiness.  They 
are  jilainly  and  exj^licitly  published;  easi- 
ly understood;  and  in  fair  and  legible 
characters  writ  in  every  man's  heart;  and 
the  wisdom,  reason,  and  necessity  of  them 

3* 


30  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

are  readily  discerned.— They  are  urged 
with  the  most  mighty  motives  that  can 
possibly  affect  the  human  lieart.  And  if 
.  any  of  them  are  difficult,  the  most  effectual 
grace  is  freely  offered  to  encourage  and  as- 
sist our  obedience:  advantages  which  no 
human  laws  have  to  enforce  the  observ- 
ance of  them.~2.  As  his  subjects,  we 
must  readily  pay  him  the  homage  due  to 
his  sovereignty.  And  this  is  no  less  than 
the  homage  of  the  heart;  humbly  ac- 
knowledging that  we  hold  every  thing  of 
liim,  and  have  every  thing  from  him. 
Earthly  princes  are  forced  to  be  content 
with  verbal  acknowledgments  or  mere 
formal  homage.  For  thev  can  command 
nothing  but  what  is  external.  But  God, 
who  knows  and  looks  at  the  hearts  of  all 
his  creatures,  will  accept  of  nothing  but 
what  comes  from  thence.  He  demands 
the  adoration  of  our  whole  souls,  which  is 
most  justly  due  to  him  who  formed  them, 
and  gave  them  the  very  capacities  to  know 
and  adore  him. — 3.  As  faithful  subjects, 
we  must  cheerfully  pay  him  the  tribute  he 
requires  of  us.  This  is  not  like  the  tribute 
which  earthly  kings  exact;  who  as  much 
depend  upon  their  subjects  for  the  support 
of  their  power,  as  their  subjects  do  upon 
them  for  the  protection  of  their  property. 


BOTH  roKsisT,  61 

But  the  tribute  God   requires  of  us,  is  a 
tribute    of  praise    and    honour,    which    he 
stands  in  no  need  of  from  us:  for  his  pow- 
er is  independent,  and  his  glory  immutable; 
and  he  is  infinitely  able  of  himself  to  sup- 
port the  dignity   of   his  tmiversal  govern- 
ment.    But  it  is  the   most  natural  duty  we 
owe  to  him   as   creatures.     For  to  praise 
him,  is  only  to  show  forth  his  praise;  to 
glorify  him,  to  celebrate  his  glory;  and  to 
honour  him,  is  to  render  him  and  his  ways 
honourable,   ill    the    eyes    and    esteem    of 
others.     And  as  this  is   the  most  natural 
duty  that  creatures  owe  to  their  Creator, 
so  it  is  a   tribute   he    requires  of  every  one 
of  them  in   proportion   to   their  respective 
talents  and  abilities  to   pay  it. —  1.   As  du- 
tiful   subject,    we    must    contentedly    and 
quietly  subu^it  to  the  methods  and  admins 
istration  of  his  government,  however  dark, 
involved  ^H\^  intricate.     All    governments 
have   their    ai^cana  imperii,   or    secrets  of 
state;  which  common  subjects  cannot  pen- 
etrate.    And    therefore   th(\y   cannot  com- 
petently judge  of  the  wisdom  or  rectitude 
of  certain  public  nn^asures;  bee  luse   they 
are  iy^noranr  either  of  the  springs  of  them, 
or  the  ends  of  them,  or   the  expediency  of 
the  means  arisins;  frosn  the  particular  situ- 
ation of   things   in    the   present  juncture. 


32  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

And  how  much  truer  is  this  with  relatioa 
to  God's  government  of  the   world,  whose 
wisdom  is  far  above  our  reach,  and  whose 
ways   are    not    as    our's.     Whatever   then 
may   be   the   present    aspect  and  appear- 
ance of  t))in,^s,  as  dutiful   subjects  we  are 
bound  to  acquiesce ;  to  ascribe  wisdom  and 
righteousness  to  our   Maker,  in  confidence 
that  the  King   and   Judge  of  all  the  earth 
will  do   right. Again,  5.  As    good  sub- 
jects of  God's   kingdom,   we   are   bound  to 
pay  a  due  regard  and  reverence  to  his  min- 
isters; especially   if  they   discover   an  un- 
corrupted  fidelity  to  his  cause,  and  a  pure, 
unaffected  zeal  for  his  honour;  if  they  do 
5wt  seek  their  own  interest  more  than  that 
of  their  divine   Master.     The    ministers  of 
earthly  princes   too   often   do  this;  and  it 
would  be  happy  if    all  the  ministers  and 
ambassadors  of  the   heavenly   King   were 
entirely  clear  of  the  imputation,     it  is  no 
uncommon    thing    for    the     honour    of   an 
earthly  monarch   to   be   wounded  through 
the   sides  of  his   ministers.     The  defama- 
tion and  slander  that  is  directly  thrown  at 
them  is  obliquely    intended  against   him; 
and  as  such  it  is  taken.     So,  to  attempt  to 
make  the  ministers  of  the  gospel,  in  gen- 
eral, the  objects  of  derision,  as  some  do, 
plainly  shows  a  mind   very  dissolute  and 


DOTH    CONSIST. 


^'^ 


disaffected  to  God  and  lelierion  itself;  rnd 
is  to  act  a  part  very  nnbeccaiiine^  the  du- 
tilul  subjects  of  his  kingdom. — Lastly: 
As  good  subjects,  we  are  to  do  all  we  can 
to  promote  the  interest  of  his  kingdom; 
by  defending  the  wisdom  of  his  adminis- 
tration,  and  endeavouring  to  reconcile  oth- 
ers thereunto,  under  all  the  darkness  and 
difficulties,  that  may  appear  therein,  in  op- 
position to  the  profane  censures  of  the 
prosperous  wicked,  and  the  doubts  and 
dismays  of  the  afflicted  lighteous.  This 
is  to  act  in  chaiacter  as  loyal  sub- 
jects of  the  King  of  heaven.  And  wIku  v- 
er  forgets  this  part  of  his  character,  or 
acts  contrary  to  it,  shows  a  great  degree 
of  self-ignorance. 

2d.  As  rhe  creatures  of  God,  we  are 
not  only  the  subjects  of  his  kingdom,  but 
the  children  of  his  family.  And  to  this 
relation,  and  the  obligations  of  it^  must  we 
carefully  attend,  if  we  would  attain  the 
true  knowledge  of  ourselves.  We  are  his 
children  by  creation;  in  which  respect  he 
is  truly  our  father.  But  now,  O  Lord, 
thou  art  our  father;  we  are  the  clay,  and 
thou  our  potter:  and  we  all  are  the  work 
of  thine  hands.  (Isa.  Ixiv.  8)  And  in  a 
more  special  sense  we  are  his  children  by 
Holoption.     For  ye   all   are   the  children  of 


34  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

God  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus.  (Gal.  iii.  26) 
And  therefore,  1.  We  are  under  the  highest 
obligations  to  love  him  as  our  father.  The 
love  of  children  to  parents  is  founded  on 
gratitude  for  benefits  received,  which  can 
never  be  requited,  and  ought  in  reason  to 
be  proportioned  to  those  benefits.  And 
what  duty  more  natural  than  to  love  our 
benefactors?  What  love  and  gratitude 
then  is  due  to  him,  from  whom  we  have 
received  the  greatest  benefit,  even  that 
of  our  being,  and  every  thing  that  contri- 
butes to  the  comfort  of  it? — 2.  As  his 
children  we  must  honour  him;  that  is, 
must  speak  honourably  of  him,  and  for 
him;  and  carefidly  avoid  every  thing  that 
may  tend  to  dishonour  his  holy  name  and 
ways.  A  son  honoureth  his  father: — If  I 
then  be  a  father,  where  is  mine  honour? 
(Mai.  i.  QJ — 3.  As  our  father,  we  are  to 
apply  to  mm  for  what  we  want.  Whither 
should  childrjen  go,,  but  to  their  father,  for 
protection,  help  and  relief  in  every  danger, 
difficulty  and  distress? — And,  4.  We  must 
trust  his  power  and  wisdom,  and  paternal 
goodness,  to  provide  for  us,  take  care  of 
us,  and  do  for  us  that  which  is  best;  and 
what  that  is  he  knows  best.  To  be  anx- 
iously fearful  what  will  become  of  us,  and 
discontented  and  perplexed  under  the  ap- 


DOTH  CONSIST.  3S 

prehensions  of  future  evils,  whilst  we  are  in 
the  hands  and   under   the   care  of  our  Fa- 
tl)er  which  is  in   heaven,  is  not  to  act  like 
children.     Earthly    parents    cannot   avert 
from  their  children  all   the  calamities  they 
fear,  because  their  wisdom  and  power  are 
limited;  but  our  all-wise  and  abwighty  Fa- 
ther in   heaven   can.     They   may  possibly 
want  love  and  tenderness,  but  our  heavenly 
Father  cannot.   (Isa.  xlix.  l/>). — 5.  As  chil- 
dren, we  must  quietly  acquiesce  in  his  dis- 
posal, and  not  expect   to  see  into  the  wis- 
dom of  all  his   will.     It  would  be  indecent 
and  undntiful  in  a  child   to  dispute  the  au- 
thority, or  question  the  wisdom,  or  neglect 
the  orders,    of  his    parents  every  time   he 
could   not  discern   the   reason   and   design 
thereof     Much    more     unreasonable    and 
unbecoming  is    such    a   behaviour  towards 
God,  who  giveth  not    account  of  any  of  his 
matters;  whose    judgments  are  unsearch- 
able, and  whose  ways    are  past  finding  out. 
(Job  xxxiii.  13.    Rotji    xi.  33.) — -Lastly:  As 
children,  we    must  patiently  subniit  to  his 
discipline    and     correction.     Earthly    par- 
ents may  sometimes   punish   their  children 
through  passion,   or  for  their  pleasure;  but 
our  heavenly     Father    always  corrects  his 
for  their  profit,    (Heb.   xii.    '0.)   and  only  if 
need  be,  (1  Pel,  i    6.)   and   never  so  muck 


36  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

as  their  iniquities  deserve.  (Ezra  ix.  13.j 
Under  his  fatherly  rebukes,  then,  let  us  ev- 
er be  humble  and  submissive.  Such  now 
is  the  true  filial  disposition.  Such  a  tem- 
per, and  such  a  behaviour  should  we  show 
towards  Goi^  if  we  would  act  in  cliarac- 
ter  as  his  children. 

These  then  are  the  two  special  rela- 
tions, which,  as  creatures,  we  stand  in  to 
God,  And  not  to  act  towards  him  in  the 
manner  before  mentioned,  is  to  show  that 
we  are  io;norant  of,  or  have  not  yet  duly 
cousidored  our  obligations  to,  him  a-s  his 
suDJects  and  his  children;  or  that  we  are 
as  yet  ignorant  both  of  God  and  ourselves. 
— Thus  we  see  how  directly  the  knowl- 
edc^e  of  ourselves  leads  us  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  God.  So  true  is  the  observation 
of  a  late 'pious  and  very  worthy  divine, 
that  "He  that  is  a  stranger  to  himself,  is  a 
stranger  to  God,  and  to  every  thing  that 
may  denominate  him  wise  and  happy." 

But,  2.  In  order  to  know  ourselves, 
there  is  another  important  relation  we 
sh:!  dd  often  think  of,  and  that  is,  that  in 
which  we  stand  to  Ji^bus  Christ  our  Re- 
deemer. 

Tlie  former  was  common  to  us  as  men; 
this  is  peculiar  to  us  as  Christians,  and 
opens   to  us  a  new  scene  of  duties  and 


DOTH    CONSIST,.  37 

.  obligations,  which  a  man  can  never  foii^et, 
that  does  not  grossly  forget  himself.  For, 
as  Christians,  we  are  the  disciples,  the 
followers,  and  the  servants  of  Christ,  re- 
deemed by  him. 

And,  1.  As  the  disciples  of  Christ,  w'o 
are  to  learn  of  him.  To  take  our  religious 
sentiments  only  from  his  gospel,  in  opposi- 
tion to  all  the  authoritative  dictates  of  men, 
who  are  v/eak  and  fallible  as  ourselves. 
Call   no    man    nmster    on    earth.     While 

I  some  affect  to  distinguish  tiiemselves  by 
party  names,  as  the  Corinthians  formerly 
did,  (for  which  the  apostle  blames  them) 
one  saying,  I  am  of  Paul;  another,  f  am 
of  Apollos;  another,  1  am  of  Cephas,  (3 
Cor.  T.  12.)  let  us  remember  that  we  are 
the  disciples  of  Christ;  and  in  this  sense 
make  mention  of  his  name  only.  It  is  re- 
ally injurious  to  it,  to  seek  to  distinguish 
ourselves  by  any  other.  There  is  more 
carnality  in  such  party  distinctions,  de- 
nominations and  attacliinents,  than  many 
good  souls  are  aware  of;  though  not  more 

-  th.in  the  apostle  Paul  (who  was  unwil- 
lingly placed  at  the  head  of  one  himself) 
hath  apprized  them  of.  (1  Cor.  iii.  4.)  We 
are  of  Christ;  our  concern  is,  to  lionour 
that  superior  denomination,  by  living  up  to 
it;  and  to  adhere  inflexibly  to  his  gospel, 

4 

461455 


38  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

as  the  only  rule  of  our  faith,  the  guide  of 
our  life,  and  the  foundation  of  our  hope; 
whatever  contempt  or  abuse  we  may  suffer 
either  from  the  profane  or  bigotted  part  of 
mankind  for  so  doing. — 2.  As  Christians, 
we  are  followers  of  Christ;  and  therefore 
bound  to  imitate  him,  and  copy  after  that 
most  excellent  pattern  he  hath  set  us,  who 
liath  left  us  an  example,  that  we  should  fol- 
low his  steps.  (1  Pet.  ii.  21.)  To  see  that 
the  same  holy  temper  be  io  us  which  was  in 
him;  and  to  discover  it  in  the  same  man- 
ner that  he  did,  and  upon  like  occasions. 
To  this  he  calls  us:  (Matt.  xi.  29.)  and  no 
man  is  any  further  a  Christian  than  as  he 
is  a  follower  of  Christ;  aiming  at  a  more 
perfect  conformity  to  that  most  perfect  ex- 
ample which  he  hath  set  us  of  universal 
goodness. — 3.  As  Christians,  we  are  the 
servants  of  Christ;  and  the  various  du- 
ties which  servants  owe  to  their  masters 
in  any  degree,  those  we  owe  to  him  in  the 
highest  degree;  who  expects  we  should 
behave  ourselves  in  his  service  with  that 
fidelity  and  zeal,  and  steady  regard  to  his 
lionour  and  interest,  at  all  times,  which 
we  are  bound  to  by  virtue  of  this  relation, 
and  to  which  his  unmerited  goodness  and 
love  lay  us  under  infinite  obligations. — 
Lastly:   We  are  moreover    his  redeemed 


DOTH    CONSIST.  39 

servants;    and     as    such    are    under    tlie 
slroni^cst  motives  to  love  and  trust  bim. 

This  deserves   to   be   more   particularly 
considered,  because  it  opens  to  us  another 
view   of  the    human   nature,  in   wiiich  we 
should  often  survey  ourselves,  if  we  desire 
to  know  ourselves;  and   that  is  as  deprav- 
ed   or    degenerate    beings.     The    inward 
contest  we  so  sensibly  feel,  at  some  sea- 
sons especially,  between  a  good  and  a  bad 
principle,   (called,  in    scripture   language, 
the  flesh   and   the    spirit)   of  which  some 
of  the  wisest   heathens   secerned  not  to  be 
ignorant:  [17J   this,  I  say, is  demonstration 
that  some  way  or  other  the  human  nature 
has  contracted  an  ill  bias,   (and  how  that 
came  about,    the    sacred    scriptures    have 
sufficiently  informed   us)  and  that  it  is  not 
what  it  was   when   it   came   originally  out 
of  the    hands   of  its    Maker;  so   that   the 
words   which   St.  Paul    spake   with   refer- 
ence to  the  Jews    in   particular,  are  justly 
applicable  to  the  present  state  of  mankind 
in  general, — There   is  none   righteous,  no, 
not  one; — they    are    all    gone    out   of  the 
way,  they    are  together  become  unprofit- 
able, there   is   none   that    docth   good,  no, 
not  one.     (Rom.  iii.  10,  12.) 

This  is   a   very   mortifying  thought;  but 
an  undeniable   truth,   and   one  of  the  first 


40  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

principles  of  that  science  we  are  treating 
of,  and  very  necessary  to  be  attended  to, 
if  we  would  be  sensible  of  the  duty  and 
obligations  we  owe  to  Christ  as  the  great 
Redeemer;  in  which  character  he  ap- 
pears for  the  relief  and  recovery  of  man- 
kind under  this  their  universal  depravity. 

The  two  miserable  effects  of  the  luiman 
apostasy  are,  1.  That  perverse  disposi- 
tions grow  up  in  our  minds  from  early  in- 
fancy, soon  settle  into  vicious  habits,  and 
render  us  weak,  and  unwilling  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  conscience  and  reason:  this  is 
commonly  called  the  dominion  of  sin.  2. 
'At  the  same  time  we  are  subject  to  the 
displeasure  of  God,  and  the  penalty  of  his 
law,  which  is  commonly  called  the  con- 
demnation of  sin.  Now  in  both  these  re- 
spects did  Christ  the  Lamb  of  Go©  come 
to  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world ;  that  is, 
to  take  away  the  reigning  power  of  it  by 
the  operation  of  his  grace  ;  and  the  condemn- 
ing power  of  it  by  the  atonement  of  his 
blood ;  to  sanctify  us  by  his  Spirit,  and 
justify  us  by  his  death;  by  the  former  he 
reconciles  us  to  God,  and  by  the  latter  he 
reconciles  God  to  us,  and  is  at  once  our 
righteousness  and  strength.  He  died  to 
purchase  for  us  the  happiness  we  had  for- 
feited, and  sends  his  grace  and  Spirit  to  fit 


DOTII    CONSIST.  41 

US  for  that  happiness  he  hath  thus  piu- 
chased.  So  complete  is  this  redemption: 
so  precisely  adapted  is  the  remedy  ho 
hath  provided,  to  the  malady  we  had  con- 
tracted!— ''O  blessed  Redeemer  of  wretch- 
ed, ruined  creatures,  how  unspeakable, 
are  the  obligations  I  owe  thee!  But  ah! 
how  insensible  am  I  to  those  obligations! 
The  saddest  symptom  of  degeneracy  [ 
fmd  in  my  nature,  is  that  base  ingratitude 
of  heart  which  renders  me  so  unaflected 
with  thine  astonishing  compassions.  Till 
I  know  thee,  I  cannot  know  myself:  and 
when  I  survey  myself,  may  I  ever  think  of 
thee!  May  the  daily  consciousness  of  my 
weakness  and  guilt  lead  my  thoughts  to 
thee;  and  may  every  thought  of  thee  kindle 
in  my  heart  the  most  ardent  glow  of  grati- 
tude to  thee,  O  thou  divine,  compassion- 
ate friend,  lover,  and  Redeemeil  of  man- 
kind/' 

Whoever  then  he  be  that  calls  himself 
a  Christian,  that  is,  who  professes  to  take 
the  gospel  of  Christ  for  a  divine  revela- 
tion, and  the  only  rule  of  his  faiih  and 
practice;  but  at  the  same  time,  pays  a 
greater  regard  to  the  dictates  of  men,  than 
to  the  doctrines  of  Christ;  who  loses 
sight  of  thai  great  example  of  Christ 
which  should  animate  his  Christian  walk  ; 

4* 


42  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

is  unconcerned  about  his  service,  honour 
and  interest,  and  excludes  the  considera- 
tion of  his  merits  and  atonement  from  his 
hope  of  happiness;  he  forgets  that  he  is  a 
Christian;  he  does  not  consider  in  what 
relation  he  stands  to  Christ,  (which  is  one 
great  part  of  his  character)  and  conse- 
quently discovers  a  great  degree  of  self-ig- 
norance. 

3.  Self-knowledge  moreover  implies  a 
due  attention  to  the  several  relations  in 
which  we  stand  to  our  fellow  creatures: 
and  the  obligations  that  result  from 
thence. 

If  we  know  ourselves,  we  shall  remem- 
ber the  condescension,  benignity,  and  love 
that  is  due  to  inferiors:  the  affability 
friendship  and  kindness  we  ought  to 
show  to  equals:  the  regard,  deference,  and 
honour  which  belong  to  superiors:  and  the 
candour,  integrity,  and  benevolence  we 
owe  to  all. 

The  particular  duties  requisite  in  these 
relations  are  too  numerous  to  be  here 
mentioned.  Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  if  a 
man  doth  not  well  consider  the  several  re- 
lations of  life  in  which  he  stands  to  oth- 
ers, and  does  not  take  care  to  preserve  the 
decorum  and  propriety  of  those  relations, 
he  may  be  justly  charged  with  self-ignor- 
ance. 


? 


DOTH    CONSIST.  43 

And  this  is  so  evident  in  itself,  and  so 
generally  allowed,  that  nothing  is  more 
common  than  to  say,  vviien  a  person  does 
not  behave  with  due  decency  toward  iiis 
superiors, — Such  an  one  does  not  under- 
stand himself.  But  why  may  not  this  with 
equal  justice  be  said  of  those  who  act  in 
an  ill  manner  towards  their  inferiors!  The 
expression,  I  know,  is  not  so  often  thus 
applied;  but  1  see  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  be,  since  one  is  as  common,  and  as 
plain  an  instance  of  self-ignorance,  as 
the  other.  Nay,  of  the  two,  perhaps  men 
in  general  are  more  apt  to  be  defective  in 
their  duty  and  behaviour  towards  those 
beneath  them,  than  they  are  towards  those 
that  are  above  them.  And  the  reason 
seems  to  be,  because  an  apprehension  of 
the  displeasure  of  their  superiors,  and  the 
detrimental  consequence  which  may  ac- 
crue from  thence,  may  be  a  check  upon  them, 
and  engage  them  to  pay  the  just  regards 
which  they  expect.  But  there  being  no 
such  check  to  restrain  them  from  violating 
the  duties  they  owe  to  inferiors,  (from 
whose  displeasure  they  have  little  to  fear) 
they  are  more  ready,  under  '".ertMin  tempta- 
ations,  to  treat  tiiem  in  a;i  uiiljeroming 
manner.     And  as  wisdom  and  seli-knowl- 


44  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

cd^e  will  direct  a  man  to  be  particularly 
careful,  lest  he  neglect  those  duties  he  is 
most  apt  to  forget;  so  as  to  the  duties  he 
owes  to  inferiors,  in  which  he  is  most  in 
danger  of  transgressmg,  he  ought  more 
strongly  to  urge  upon  himself  the  indis- 
pensable obligations  of  religion  and  con- 
science. And  if  he  does  not,  but  suffers 
himself,  through  the  violence  of  ungovern- 
ed  passion,  to  be  transported  into  the  ex- 
cesses of  rigor,  tyranny,  and  oppression, 
toward  those  whom  God  and  nature  have 
put  into  his  power,  it  is  certain  that  he  does 
not  know  himself;  is  not  acquainted  with 
his  own  particular  weakness;  is  ignorant 
of  the  duty  of  his  relation;  and  whatever 
he  may  think  of  himself,  hath  not  the 
true  spirit  of  government;  because  he 
wants  the  art  of  self-government.  For  he 
that  is  unable  to  govern  himself,  can  nev- 
er be  fit  to  govern  others. 

Would  Vi/e  know  ourselves  then,  we 
must  consider  ourselves  as  creatures,  as 
Christians,  and  as  men;  and  remember 
the  obligations  which,  as  such,  we  are  un- 
der to  God,  to  Christ,  and  our  fellow  men, 
in  the  several  relations  we  bear  to  them, 
in  order  to  mantain  tlie  propriety,  and  ful- 
fil the  duties  of  those  relations. 


DOTH    CONSIST.  4S 


CHAP.  IV. 

TVe  must  duly  cor) aider  the  Rank  and  Sta- 
tion of  L:Jc  in  which  Providence  has  pla- 
ced us^  and  what  it  is  that  becomes  and 
adorns  it. 

A  MAN  that  knows  Iiimself,  will  deliber- 
ately consider  and  attend  to  the  particu- 
lar rank  and  station  in  life  in  which  Provi- 
dence hath  placed  him  ;  and  what  is  the  du- 
ty and  decorum  of  that  station;  what  part 
is  given  him  to  act;  what  character  to 
maintain,  and  wiih  what  decency  and  pro- 
priety he  acts  that  part,  or  maintains  that 
character. 

For  a  man  to  assume  a  character,  or 
aim  at  a  part  that  does  not  belong  to  him, 
is  affectation.  And  whence  is^it  that  affec- 
tation of  any  kind  appears  so  ridiculous, 
and  exposes  men  to  universal  and  just 
contempt,  but  because  it  is  a  certain  indi- 
cation of  self-ignorance?  Whence  is  it 
that  any  seem  so  willing  to  be  thought 
something  when  they  are  nothing;  and 
seek  to  excel  in  those  things  in  which  they 
cannot;  whilst  thoy  neglect  those  things 
in  which  they   may  excel?    Whence   is  it 


46  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEBGE 

that  they  counteract  the  intention  of  na- 
ture and  Providence;  that  when  these  in- 
tended them  one  thing  rliey  would  fain  be 
another? — Whence,  I  say,  but  from  an  ig- 
norance of  themselves,  the  rank  of  life 
they  are  in,  and  of  the  part  and  charac- 
ter which  properly  belong  to  them? 

It  is  a  just  observation,  and  an  excel- 
lent document  of  a  moral  heathen,  that 
human  life  is  a  "drama,  and  mankind  the 
actors,  who  have  their  several  parts  as- 
signed them  by  the  master  of  the  theatre, 
who  stands  behind  the  scenes,  and  ob- 
serves in  what  manner  every  one  acts. 
Some  have  a  short  part  allotted  them,  and 
some  a  long  one ;  some  a  low,  and  some  a 
high  one.  It  is  not  he  that  acts  the  high- 
est or  most  shining  part  on  the  stage,  that 
comes  off  with  the  greatest  applause:  but 
he  that  acts  his  part  best,  whatever  it  be. 
To  take  care  then  to  act  our  respective 
parts  in  life  well,  is  ours;  but  to  choose 
what  part  in  life  we  shall  act,  is  not  ours, 
but  God's."  [18]  But  a  man  can  never  act 
his  part  well,  if  he  does  not  attend  to  it; 
does  not  know  what  becomes  it ;  much 
less,  if  he  affect  to  act  another,  which  na- 
ture never  designed  him.  It  is  always 
self-ignorance  that  leads  a  man  to  act  out 
«f  character. 


DOTH  CONSIST.  47 

Is  it  a  mean  and  low  station  of  life  thou 
art  in'?;  Know  then,  that  Providtnce  calls 
thee  to  the  exercise  of  industry,  content- 
ment, submission,  patience,  hope,  and 
humble  dependence  on  him,  and  a  respect- 
ful deference  to  thy  superiors.  In  this 
way  thou  mayest  shine  througli  thine  ob- 
scurity; and  render  thyself  amiable  in  the 
sight  of  G(^D  and  man.  And  not  only  so, 
but  find  more  satisfaction,  safety,  and  self- 
enjoyment,  than  they  who  move  in  a  high- 
er sphere,  from  whence  they  are  in  danger 
of  falling. 

But  hath  Providence  called  thee  to  act 
in  a  more  public  character,  and  for  a  more 
extensive  benefit  to  the  world? — Thy  first 
care  then  ought  to  be,  that  thy  example, 
as  far  as  its  influence  reaches,  may  be  an 
encouragement  to  the  practice  of  univer- 
sal virtue.  And  next,  to  shine  in  those 
virtues  especially  which  best  adorn  thy 
station:  as  benevolence,  charity,  wisdom, 
moderation,  firmness,  and  inviolable  integ- 
rity ;  with  an  undismayed  fortitude  to 
press  through  all  opposition  in  accom- 
plishing those  ends  which  thou  hast  a 
prospect  and  probability  of  attaining  for 
the  apparent  good  of  mankind. 

And  as  self-ac(iuaintance  will  teach  us 
what  part  in   life   we  ought  to  act,  so  the 


48  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

knowledge  of  that  will  shew  us  whom  wc 
ought  to   imitate,  and   wherein.     We  are 
not   to   take    examples    of  conduct  from 
those  who  have   a   very   different  part  as-» 
signed   them    from   ours;    unless  in   those 
things   that    are    universally    ornamental 
and  exemplary.     If  we    do,  we  shall  but 
expose  our  affectation  and  weakness,  and 
ourselves  to  contempt  for  acting  out  of  char- 
acter.    For   what   is    decent   in  one  may 
be   ridiculous    in   another.     Nor  must    we 
blindly  follow   those     who    move    in    the 
same     sphere,      and      sustain    the    same 
character   with    ourselves;    but      only   in 
those  things  that   are  befitting  that  char- 
acter.    For  it   is   not  the   person,  but  the 
character,  we  are  to   regard ;  and  to  imi- 
tate him  no  farther  than  he  keeps  to  that. 
This     caution     particularly     concerns 
youth,  who  are   apt  to   imitate  their  supe- 
riors very  implicitly,   and   especially   such 
as  shine  in  the  profession   they  themselves 
are    intended    for;  but  for  want  of  judg- 
ment to  distinguish  what  is  fit  and  decent, 
are    apt    to     imitate    their    very    foibles; 
which  a  partiality  for  their  persons  makes 
them  deem   as   excellencies:  and  thereby 
they  become  doubly    ridiculous,  both   by 
acting   out  of  character  themselves,  and 
by  a  weak  and  servile  imitation  of  others 


DOTII  CONSIST,  49 

la  the  very  things  in  which  they  do  so  too. 
To  maintain  a  character  then  with  decen- 
cy, we  must  keep  our  eye  only  upon  that 
which  is  proper  to  it. 

In  fine,  as  no  man  can  excel  in  every 
thing,  we  must  consider  what  part  is  allot- 
ted us  to  act,  in  the  station  in  which  Prov- 
idence hath  placed  us,  and  keep  to  that, 
be  it  what  it  will,  and  seek  to  excel  in 
that  only. 


CHAP.  V. 

Every  Man  should  be  icell  acquainted  witk 
his  own  Talents  and  Capacities ;  and  in 
what  Manner  they  arc  to  be  exercised  and 
•improved  to  the  greatest  Advantage. 

A  MAX  cannot  be  said  to  know  himself, 
till  he  is  well  acquainted  with  his  projDer 
talents  and  capacities;  knows  for  wliat 
ends  he  received  them,  and  how  they  may 
be  most  fitly  applied  and  improved  for 
those  ends. 

A  wise  and  self-understanding  man,  in- 
stead of  aiming  at  talents  he  hath  not, 
will  set  about  cultivating  those  he  hath  5 


5 


50  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

as  the  way  in  which  Providence  points 
out  his  proper  usefulness. 

As,  in  order  to  the  edification  of  the 
church,  the  Spirit  of  God  at  first  conferred 
upon  the  ministers  of  it  a  great  variety 
of  spiritual  gifts,  (1  Cor  xii.  8 — 10)  so,  for 
the  good  of  the  community,  God  is  pleas- 
ed now  to  confer  upon  men  a  great  varie- 
ty of  natural  talents:  and  every  one  hath 
his  proper  gift  of  God;  one  after  this  man* 
ner,  another  after  that.  (1  Cor.  vii.  7.) 
And  every  one  is  to  take  care  not  to  neg- 
lect, but  to  stir  up  the  gift  of  God  which 
is  in  him.  (1  Tim.  iv.  14.  2  Tim.  i.  6.)  Be- 
cause it  was  given  hira  to  be  improved. 
And  not  only  the  abuse,  but  the  neglect  of 
it,  must  hereafter  be  accounted  for.  Wit- 
ness the  doom  of  that  unprofitable  ser- 
vant, who  laid  up  his  single  pound  in  a 
napkin;  (Luke  xix.  20.  24.)  and  of  him 
who  went  and  hid  his  talent  in  the  earths 
(Matt.  XXV.  25,  30.) 

It  is  certainly  a  sign  of  great  self-ignor- 
ance, for  a  man  to  venture  out  of  his 
depth,  or  attempt  any  thing  he  wants  op- 
portunity or  capacity  to  accomplish.  And 
therefore  a  wise  man  will  consider  with 
iiimself,  before  he  undertakes  any  thing 
of  consequence,  whether  ho  hath  abilities 
to  carry  him  through  it,  and  whether  the 


DOTH    CONSIST.  51 

issue  of  it  is  like  to  be  for  his  credit;  lest 
he  sink  under  the  weii^ht  lie  lavs  upon 
liimself,  and  incur  tlie  just  censure  of 
rashness,  ])resuinption  and  folly.  Sec 
Luke  xiv.  28—32.    [lO] 

It  is  no  uncommon  tiling  for  some  who 
excel  in  one  thins^,  to  imagine  they  may 
excel  in  every  thin?.  And  not  content 
with  that  share  of  merit  which  every  one 
allows  them,  are  still  catching  at  that 
which  doth  not  belong  to  them.  Why 
should  a  good  orator  wish  to  be  thought 
a  poet?  VVIiy  must  a  celebrated  divine 
set  up  for  a  politician?  Or  a  statesmen 
affect  the  philosopher?  Or  a  mechanic 
the  scholar?  Or  a  wise  man  labour  to  be 
thought  a  wit?  This  is  a  weakness  that 
flo'.vs  from  self-ignorance,  and  is  incident 
to  the  greatest  men.  Nature  seldom  forms 
a  universal  genius;  but  deals  out  favours 
in  the  present  state  with  a  parsimonious 
liand. — Many  a  man  by  his  foibles  hath 
weakened  a  well-established  reputation, 
[20] 


52 


WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 


CHAP.  VI. 

We  must  he  well  acquainted  with  our  Inabili- 
ties, and  those  2' kings  in  which  we  are  na- 
turally deficient,  as  well  as  those  in  which 
we  excel. 


We  must,  in  order  to  a  thorough  self-ac- 
qnaintance,  not  only  consider  our  talents 
and  proper  abilities,  but  have  an  eye  to 
our  frailties  and  deficiencies,  tliat  we  may 
know  where  our  weakness  as  well  as  our 
strength  lies.  Otherwise,  like  Samson,  we 
may  run  ourselves  into  iufinite  tempta- 
tions and  troubles. 

Every  man  hath  a  weak  side.  Every 
v.ise  man  knows  where  it  is,  and  will  be 
sure  to  keep  a  double  guard  there.  There 
is  some  wisdom  in  concealing  a  weakness. 
This  cannot  be  done,  till  it  he  first  known; 
nor  can  it  be  known,  without  a  good  de- 
gree of  self-acquaintance. 

It  is  strange  to  observe  what  pains 
some  men  are  at  to  expose  themselves;  to 
signalize  their  own  folly;  and  to  set  out 
to  the  most  public  view  those  things 
which  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  think 
should    ever    enter    into    their    character 


1 


DOTH  CONSIST.  53 

But  SO  it  is;  some  men  seem  to  be  asham- 
ed of  those  things  which  should  be  their 
gh)rv,  u  hilst  other  glory  in  their  shame. 
(Phil.  iii.  10.) 

The  greatest  weakness  in  man  is,  to 
publish  his  follies,  and  to  appear  fond  to 
jiavc  them  known.  But  vanity  will  often 
prompt  a  man  to  this;  who,  unacquainted 
with  the  jnrasure  of  his  capacities,  at- 
tempts things  out  of  his  power  and  be- 
yond his  reach;  whereby  he  makes  the 
world  acquainted  with  two  things  to  his 
disad\ antage,  which  they  were  ignorant 
of  before,  viz.  his  deficiency,  and  his  self- 
ignorance  in  appearing  so  blind  to  it. 

It  is  ill  judged  (though  very  common) 
to  be  less  ashamed  of  a  want  of  temper 
than  understanding.  For  it  is  no  real 
dishonour  or  fault  in  a  man  to  have  but  a 
small  ability  of  mind,  provided  he  have 
not  the  vanity  to  set  up  for  a  genius, 
(which  would  be  as  ridiculous,  as  for  a 
man  of  small  strength  and  stature  of  body, 
to  set  up  for  a  cham])ion)  because  this  is 
w  hat  we  cannot  help.  But  a  ma  -.  may  in 
a  good  measure  correct  the  fault  of  his 
natural  temper,  if  he  be  well  acquainted 
with  it,  and  duly  watchful  over  it.  And 
therefore,  to  betray  a  prevailing  weakness 
of  temper,    or  an   ungoverned  passion,  di- 

5* 


M  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

niinishes  a  man's  reputation  much  more 
than  to  discover  a  weakness  of  judgment 
or  understanding.  But  what  is  most  dis- 
honourable of  all  is,  for  a  man  at  once 
to  discover  a  great  genius  and  an  ungov- 
erned  mind ;  because  that  strength  of 
reason  and  understanding  he  is  master  of, 
gives  him  a  great  advantage  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  his  passions.  And  therefore 
his  suffering  himself,  notwithstanding,  to  be 
governed  by  them,  shows,  that  he  hath 
too  much  neglected  or  misapplied  his  na- 
tural talent;  and  willingly  submitted  to 
the  tyranny  of  those  lusts  and  passions, 
over  which  nature  hath  furnished  him 
with  abilities  to  have  secured  an  easy  con- 
quest 

A  wise  man  hath  his  foibles  as  well  as 
a  fool.  But  the  difference  between  them  is, 
that  the  foibles  of  the  one  are  known  to 
himself,  and  concealed  from  the  world; 
the  foibles  of  the  otiier  are  known  to  the 
world,  and  concealed  from  himself.  The 
wise  man  sees  those  frailties  in  himself, 
which  others  cannot;  but  the  fool  is  blind 
to  those  blemishes  in  his  character,  which 
areconspicuous  to  everv  body  else.  Whence 
it  appears,  that  self-knowledge  is  that 
which  makes  the  main  difterence  between 


POTH  CONSIST  55 

a  wise  man  and  a  fool,  in  the  moral  sense 
of  that  word. 


CHAP,  VII. 

Concerning  the  Knoiv/edire  of  our  Const itii' 
iional  Sins. 

ScLF-AcquAiNTANCE  sliows  a  man  the 
particular  sins  he  is  exposed  and  addicted 
to;  and  discovers  not  only  what  is  ridicu- 
lous, but  wliat  is  criminal,  in  his  conduct 
and  temper. 

A  man's  outward  actions  are  generally 
the  plainest  index  of  his  inward  disposi- 
tions.— And  by  the  allowed  sins  of  bis 
life,  yon  may  know  the  reigninj^  vices  of 
liis  mind.  Is  be  adilicted  to  luxury  or  de- 
baucb?  Sensuality  then  appears  to  be  his 
prevailing;  tasto  Is  he  given  to  revenge 
and  cruelty?  Choler  and  malice  then  reign 
in  his  beart.  Is  be  confident,  bold,  and 
enterprising?  Ambition  appears  to  be  the 
secret  spring.  Is  he  sly  and  designing, 
given  to"  intrigue  and  artifice?  You  may 
conclude  there  is  a  natural  subtilty  of 
tempi'r  tbat  prom|)ts  bi  n  to  th's:  and  this 
secret  disposition   is  criminal,  iu  propor- 


56  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

tion  to  the  degree  in  which  these  outward 
actions,  which  spring  from  it,  transgress 
the  bounds  of  reason  and  virtue. 

Every  man  hath  something  peculiar  in 
the  turn  or  cast  of  his  mind,  which  distin- 
guishes iiim  as  much  as  the  particular 
constitution  of  his  body.  And  both  these, 
viz.  his  particular  turn  of  mind,  and  con- 
stitution of  body,  not  only  incline  and  dis- 
pose him  to  some  kind  of  sins,  more  than 
to  others,  but  render  the  practice  of  cer- 
tain virtues  much  more  easy.  [21] 

Now  those  sins  to  which  men  are  com- 
monly nujst  inclined,  and  the  temptations 
which  they  have  the  least  power  to  resist, 
are,  and  not  improperly,  called  their  con- 
stitutional sins;  their  peculiar  frailties; 
and  in  scripture,  tlieir  own  iniquities, 
(Psalm  xviii.  .32,)  and  the  sins  which  do 
most  easily  beset  us.  (Ileb.  vii.  1.) 

"As  in  the  humours  of  the  body,  so  in 
the  vices  of  the  mind,  there  is  one  pre- 
dominant; which  has  an  ascendant  over 
us,  and  leads  and  governs  us.  It  is  in  the 
body  of  sin,  what  the  heart  is  in  tlie  body 
of  o'.ir  nature;  it  begins  to  live  first,  and 
dies  last.  And  whilst  it  lives,  it  comnui- 
nicates  life  and  spirit  to  the  whole  body 
of  sin;  and  when  it  dies,  the  body  of  sin 
expires  with  it.     It  is  the  sin  to  which  our 


DOTH    CONSIST.  57 

constitution  leads,  our  circumstances  be- 
tray, and  custom  enslaves  us;  the.  sin  to 
which  ncH  our  virtues  only,  but  vices  too, 
lower  their  topsai!,  anci  submit;  the  sin, 
which  when  we  would  impose  upon  God 
and  our  consciences,  mc  excuse  and  dis- 
guise with  all  imaginable  artifice  and 
sophistry;  but,  when  we  are  sincere  with 
both,  we  oppose  first,  and  conquer  last. 
It  is,  in  a  word,  the  sin  which  reigns  and 
rules  in  the  unrei';enerate,  and  too  often 
alarms  and  disturbs  (ah!  that  I  could  say 
no  more)  the  regenerate." 

Some  are  more  inclined  to  the  sins  of 
the  flesh;  sensuality,  intemperance,  un- 
cleanness,  sloth,  self-indulgence,  and  ex- 
cess in  animal  gratifications.  Others  to 
the  sins  of  the  spirit;  pride,  malice,  cov- 
etousness,  ambition,  wrath,  revenge,  envy, 
&c.  And  I  am  persuaded  there  are  few, 
but,  upon  a  thorough  search  into  them- 
selves, may  find  that  some  one  of  these 
sins  hath  ordinarily  a  greater  power  over 
them  than  the  rest.  Others  often  observe 
it  in  them,  if  they  themselves  do  not. 
And  for  a  man  not  to  know  his  predomin- 
ant iniquity,  is  great  sell-ignorance  indeed; 
and  a  sign  that  he  has  all  his  life  lived 
far  from  home;  because  he  is  not  ac- 
quainted   with   that    relating    to    himself, 


58  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

which  every  one  who  is  but  half  an  hour 
in  his  company,  perhaps,  may  be  able  to 
inform  hi«i  of.  Hence  proceeds  that  ex- 
treme weakness  which  some  discover  in 
censuring  others,  for  the  very  same  faults 
they  are  guilty ^f  themselves,  and  per- 
haps in  a  much  higher  degree;  on  which 
the  apostle   Paul   animadverts,  Rom.  ii.  1. 

[22] 

It  must  be  owned,  it  is  an  irksome  and 
disagreeable  buisness  for  a  man  to  turn 
his  own  accuser:  to  search  after  his  own 
faults,  and  keep  his  eye  upon  that  which 
gives  him  shame  and  pain  to  see.  It  is 
like  tearing  open  an  old  wound;  but  it  is 
better  to  do  this,  than  to  let  it  mortify. 
The  wounds  of  the  conscience,  like  those 
of  the  body,  cannot  be  well  cured  till 
they  are  searched  to  the  bottom;  and 
they  cannot  be  searched  without  pain.  A 
man  that  is  engaged  in  the  study  of  himself 
must  be  content  to  know  the  worst  of 
himself.    [23] 

Do  not  therefore  shut  your  eyes  against 
your  dnrling  sin,  or  be  averse  to  find  it 
out.  Why  should  you  study  to  conceal  or 
excuse  it;  and  fondly  cherish  that  viper 
in  your  bosom? — ''Some  men  deal  by  their 
sins,  as  some  ladies  do  bv  their  persons. 
When  their  beauty  is  decayed,  they  seek 


1>0TH    CONSIST,  69 

to  hide  it  from  themselves  by  false 
glasses,  and  from  others  by  paint.  So, 
many  seek  to  hide  their  sins  from  them- 
selves by  false  glasses,  and  from  others 
by  excuses,  or  fulse  colours."  But  the 
greatest  cheat  they  put  upon  themselves. 
They  that  cover  their  sins  shall  not  pros- 
per. (Prov.  xxviii.  13.)  It  is  dangerous  self- 
flattery  to  give  soft  and  smoothing  names 
to  sins,  in  order  to  disguise  their  nature. 
Rather  lay  your  hand  upon  your  heartj 
iand  thrust  it  into  your  bosom,  though 
it  come  out  (as  Moses'  did)  leprous  as 
snow.  (Exod.  iv.  C.)     [21J 

And  to  And  out  our  niost  beloved  sin, 
let  us  consider  what  are  those  worldly  ob- 
jects or  amusements  which  give  us  the 
highest  delight;  this,  it  is  probable,  will 
lead  us  directly  to  some  one  of  our  dar- 
ling iniquities,  if  it  be  a  sin  of  commis- 
sion: and  what  are  those  duties  which  we 
tead,  or  hear  of  from  the  word  of  God,  to 
which  we  find  ourselves  most  disinclined  1^ 
And  this,  in  all  likelihood,  will  help  us  to 
detect  some  of  our  peculiar  sins  of  omis- 
sion;  which,  without  such  previous  exam- 
ination, we  may  not  be  sensible  of.  And 
thus  we  may  make  a  proficiency  in  one 
considerable  branch  of  self-knowledge, 
[25] 


60  WftfiREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGfi 


CHAP.  VIII. 

The    Knowledge     of  our    most   dangerous 
Temptations^  necessary  to  Sclf-Knowlcdge. 

A  MAN  that  rightly  knows  himself,  is 
acquainted  with  his  peculiar  temptations; 
and  knows  when,  and  in  what  circum- 
stances, he  is  in  the  greatest  danger  of 
transgressing. 

Reader,  if  ever  you  would  know  your- 
self, you  must  examine  this  point  thor- 
oughly. And  if  you  have  never  yet  done 
it,  make  a  pause  when  3^ou  have  read  this 
chapter,  and  do  it  now.  Consider  in  what 
company  you  are  most  apt  to  lose  the 
possession  and  government  of  yourself;  on 
what  occasions  you  are  apt  to  be  most 
vain  and  unguarded,  most  warm  and  pre- 
cipitant. Flee  that  company,  avoid  those 
occasions,  if  you  would  keep  your  con- 
science clear.  What  is  it  that  robs  you 
of  your  time  and  your  temper?  If  you 
have  a  due  regard  to  the  improvement  of 
the  one,  and  the  preservation  of  the  oth- 
er, you  will  regret  such  a  loss;  and  shun 
the  occasions  of  it,  as  carefully  as  you 
would  a  road  beset  with  robbers. 


toOTII  CONSIST.  Cl 

But  especially  must  you  attend  to  the 
occasions  wliicli  most  usually  betray  \  ou 
into  your  favourite  vices;  and  consider 
the  spring  from  whence  they  arise,  and  the 
circinnstances  which  most  favour  them. 
They  arise  doubtless  Ironi  your  natural 
temper,  wliicli  strongly  disposes  and  in- 
clines you  to  them.  That  temper,  then,  or 
particular  turn  of  desire,  must  be  careful- 
ly watched  over,  as  a  most  dangerous 
quarter. — And  tiie  opportunities  and  cir- 
cumstances which  favour  those  inclina- 
tions must  be  resolutely  avoided,  as  the 
strongest  temptations.  For  the  way  to 
subdue  a  criminal  inclination  is,  first,  to 
avoid  the  known  occasions  which  excite  it; 
and  to  then  curb  the  lirst  motions  of  it.  [26] 
And  thus  having  no  opportunity  of  being 
indulged,  it  will  of  itself  in  time  lose  its 
force,  and  fail  of  its  wonted  victory. 

The  surest  way  to  conquer,  is  sometimes 
to  decline  a  battle;  to  weary  out  the  ene- 
my by  keeping  him  at  bay.  Fabius  Max- 
imus  did  not  use  this  stratagem  more  suc- 
cessfully against  Hannibal  than  a  Chris- 
tian may  against  his  peculiar  vice,  if  he 
be  but  watchful  of  his  advantages.  It  is 
dangerous  to  provoke  an  unequal  enemy 
t©  the  fight,  or  run   into  such  a  situation. 


62  .WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

where  we  cannot  expect  to  escape  with- 
out a  disadvantageous  encounter. 

It  is  of  unspeakable  importance,  in  or- 
der to  self-knowledge  and  self-government, 
to  be  acquainted  with  all  the  accesses 
and  avenues  to  sin,  and  to  observe  which 
way  it  is  that  we  ourselves  too  often  ap- 
proach it;  and  to  set  reason  and  con- 
science to  guard  those  passes,  those  usual 
inlets  to  vice,  which,  if  a  man  once  enters, 
he  will  find  a  retreat  extremely  difficult, 
[27] 

"Watchfulness,  which  is  always  ne- 
cessary, is  chiefly  so  when  the  first  as- 
sults  are  made:  for  then  the  enemy  is 
most  easily  repulsed,  if  we  never  suffer 
him  to  get  within  us,  but  upon  the  very 
first  approach  draw  up  our  forces,  and 
fight  him  without  the  gate.  And  this 
will  be  more  manifest,  if  we  observe  by 
what  methods  and  degrees  temptations 
grow  upon  us. — The  first  thing  that  pre- 
sents itself  to  the  mind,  is  a  plain  single 
thought;  this  straight  is  improved  into  a 
strong  imagination ;  that  again  enforced 
by  a  sensible  delight;  then  follow  evil 
motions;  and  when  these  are  once  stirred, 
their  wants  nothing  but  the  assent  of  the 
will,  and  the  work  is  finished.  Now  the 
first  steps    to    this    are    seldom  thought 


DOTH    CONSIST.  63 

worth  our  care;  sometimes  not  taken  no- 
tice of;  so  that  the  enemy  is  frequently 
got  close  up  to  us,  and  evrn  within  our 
trenches,  Ijeforo  we  ohserve  him." 

As  men  havc^  tlieir  particular  sins, 
which  do  most  easily  beset  them;  so  tliey 
have  their  particular  temp^tations,  whicii 
do  most  easily  overcome  them.  Tiiat 
may  be  a  very  great  temptation  to  one, 
which  is  none  at  all  to  another.  And  if 
a  man  does  not  know  what  are  his  great- 
est temptations,  he  must  have  been  a 
great  stranger  indeed  to  the  business  of 
self-employment. 

As  the  subtle  enemy  of  mankind  takes 
care  to  draw  men  gradually  into  sin,  so 
he  usually  draws  them  by  degrees  into 
temptation.  As  he  disguises  the  sin,  so 
he  conceals  the  tem))tation  to  it;  well 
knowing,  that  were  they  but  once  sensi- 
ble of  their  danger  of  sin,  they  would  be 
ready  to  be  on  their  guard  against  it. 
Would  we  know  ourselves  thoroughly, 
then,  we  must  get  acquainted  not  only 
with  our  most  usual  temptations,  that  we 
be  not  unawares  drawn  intf)  sin,  but  with 
the  previous  steps  and  preparatory  cir- 
cumstances, which  make  way  for  those 
temipta lions,  that  we  be  not  drawn  una- 
wares into  the  occasions  of  sin;  for  those 


04  TYHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

things  which  lead  us  into  temptations,  are 
to  be  considered  as  temptations,  as  well 
as  those  which  immediately  lead  iis  into 
sin.  And  a  man  that  knows  himself,  will 
be  aware  of  his  remote  temptations,  as 
well  as  the  more  immediate  ones;  t.  g.  If 
he  find  the  company  of  a  passionate  man 
is  a  temptation,  (as  Solomon  tells  ns  it  is, 
Prov.  xxii.  24,  25,)  he  will  not  only  avoid 
it,  but  those  occasions  that  may  lead  him 
into  it.  And  the  petition  in  tlie  Lord's 
Prayer  makes  it  as  much  a  man's  di!ty  to 
be  upon  his  guard  against  teUiptation,  as 
under  it.  Nor  can  a  man  pray  from  his 
heart  that  God  would  not  lead  him  into 
temptation,  if  he  take  no  care  hin^self  to 
avoid  it. 


CHAP.  IX. 

Self- Know  ledge  discovers   the  secret  Prejudi- 
ces of  the  Heart. 

Another  important  branch  of  self- 
knowledge  is,  for  a  man  to  be  acquainted 
with  his  own  prejudices;  or  those  secret 
prepossesions  of  heart,  which,  though  so 
•deep  and  latent,  that  he  may  not  be  sensi- 


DOTH  CONSIST.  (jj 

bio  of  them,  are  often  so  stroiii?  nnrl  pre- 
VHl'.nt  as  to  give  ii  mighty,  impercepiible 
bias  to  the  iiiiiul. 

There  is  no  one  particular  that  I  know 
of,  wherein  self-knowledge  more  eminent- 
\y  consists,  than  it  does  in  this.  It  being 
therefore  so  essential  a  branch  of  my  sub- 
ject, and  a  point  to  which  men  seldom  j)ay 
attention  eqoal  to  its  importance,  1  beg 
leave  to  treat  it  with  a  little  more  ))reci- 
sion. 

These  ];)reiiu1ices  of  the  human  mind 
may  be  considered  with  regard  to  opinions, 
persons,  and  things. 

1.  With  regard  to  opinions. 

It  is  a  common  observation,  but  well  ex- 
pressed by  a  late  celebrated  writer,  "that 
we  set  out  in  life  v.ith  such  poor  beginnings 
of  knowledge,  and  grow  up  under  such  re- 
mains of  superstition  v.nd  ignorance,  such 
influences  of  company  and  fashion,  such  in- 
sinuations of  pleasure,  &:c.  tl^at  it  is  no 
wonder,  if  men  get  iiabits  of  thinking  on- 
ly in  one  way;  that  these  habits  in  time 
grow  rigid  and  confirmed;  and  so  their 
minds  come  to  be  overcast  with  thick  pre- 
judices, scarce  penetrable  by  any  ray  of 
truth,  or  light  of  reason." 

There  is  no  man  but  is  more  attached 
to  one  particular  set  or  scheme  of  opin- 

6* 


66  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

ions  in  philosophy,  politics,  and  religion, 
than  he  is  to  another;  I  mean,  if  he  hath 
employed  his  thoughts  at  all  about  thein. 
The  question  we  should  examine  then  is, 
How  came  we  by  these  attachments? 
Whence  are  we  so  fond  of  these  particu- 
lar notions?  Did  we  come  fairly  by  them? 
Or  were  they  imposed  upon  us,  and  dicta- 
ted 50  our  easy  belief,  before  we  were 
able  to  judge  of  them?  This  is  most  like- 
ly. For  the  impressions  we  early  receive 
generally  grow  up  with  us,  and  are  those 
we  least  care  to  part  with.  However, 
w  hich  way  soever  we  came  by  them,  they 
must  be  re-examined  and  brought  to  the 
touchstone  of  sound  'sense,  sold  reason, 
and  plain  scripture.  If  they  will  not  bear 
tliis,  after  hard  rubbing,  they  must  be  dis- 
missed, as  no  genuine  principles  of  truth, 
but  as  counterfeits  impossed  upon  us  un- 
der the  guise  and  semblance  of  it. 

And  as  reason  and  scripture  must  dis- 
cover our  prejudices  to  us,  so  they  only 
can  help  us  to  get  rid  of  them.  By  these 
are  we  to  rectify,  and  to  these  are  we  to 
conform,  all  our  opinions  and  sentiments 
in  religion,  as  our  only  standard,  exclusive 
of  all  other  rules,  light  or  authority,  what- 
toever. 

And  care  must  further  be  taken  that  we 


bOTH    CONSIST.  67 

^0  not  make  scripture  and  reason  bend 
an']  buckle  to  our  notif)n:  which  will 
vathcr  conlirni  our  prejudices  than  cure 
them.  For  whatever  cannot  evidently  be 
proved,  without  the  help  of  overstrained 
metaphors,  and  the  arts  of  sophistry,  is 
much  to  be  suspected;  which  used  to 
make  archbishop  Tiilotson  say — Non  amo 
ar'iutius  in  Theologia  ;  1  do  not  love  sub- 
leties  in  divinity.      But, 

2.  The  human  mind  is  very  apt  to  be 
prejudiced  either  for  or  against  certain 
persons,  as  well  as  certain  sentiments. 
And  as  prejudice  will  lead  a  man  to  talk 
very  unreasonably  with  regard  to  the 
latter,  so  it  will  lead  him  to  act  as  un- 
reasonably with  regard  to  the  former. 

What  is  the  reason,  for  instance,  that 
we  casmot  iielp  having  a  more  hearty  af- 
fection for  some  persons  than  others?  Is  it 
from  a  similaritv  of  tas^e  and  temj^er? 
Or  something  in  their  address,  that  flut- 
ters our  vanity?  Or  something  in  tlieir 
liumour,  that  hits  our  fancy?  Or  some- 
thnig  in  their  conversation,  that  improves 
our  understanding?  Or  a  certain  svveet- 
ness  of  disposition,  and  a.""reecal)leness 
of  manner,  that  is  naturally  engcigiug? 
Or  lV(Mn  benefits  received  or  eynect(d 
froitt  tliciii?    Or    from  some  eminent  and 


68  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

distinguished  excellency  in  them?  Or  from 
none  of  these;  but  somelhiug  else,  we 
cannot  tell  what? — Such  sort  of  inquiries 
will  show  us  whether  our  esteem  and  af- 
fections be  rightly  placed;  or  flow  from 
mere  instinct,  blind  prejudice,  or  some- 
thing worse. 

And  so  on  the  other  hand,  with  regard 
to  our  disaffection  towards  any  one,  or  the 
disgust  we  have  taken  against  him;  if  we 
would  know  ourselves,  we  must  examine 
into  the  bottom  of  this;  and  see  not  only 
what  is  the  pretended,  but  the  true  cause 
of  it;  whether  it  be  justifialde,  and  resent- 
ments duly   proportioned    to   it. is  his 

manner  of  thinking,  talking  and  acting, 
quite  different  from  mine,  and  therelbre 
what  I  cannot  approve?  Or  have  I  received 
some  real  affront  or  injury  from  him?  Be  it 
so;  my  continued  resentment  against  him, 
on  either  of  thesp  accounts,  may  be  ow- 
ing, notwithstandng,  more  to  some  unreas- 
onable prejudice  in  me,  than  to  any  real 
fault  in  him. 

For  as  to  the  former,  his  way  of  think- 
ing, talking  and  acting,  mav  possibly  be 
juster  than  mv  own ;  which  the  mere  force 
of  custom  and  habit  onl>  nmkes  nie  pre- 
fer to  his  Howeyer.  he  it  ever  so  wrong, 
he  may  not  have  had  the  same  advantage 


DOTH    CONSIST.  69 

of  improving;  liis  iiiulerstandinfr,  ndtlress, 
and  conduct,  as  I  have  had;  and  tlu  re- 
forcj  his  deltcts  herein  are  more  excusea- 
b!e.  And  he  may  have  many  otlier  kinds 
of  exceHencies  which  I  have  not. — '•Hut 
he  is  not  only  i»iU)rant  and  iinmanncred,  but 
unsufferably  vam,  conceited  -nul  ovc^-bear- 
ing  at  the  same  tinie."  Why.  that  jjcr- 
hnps  he  cannot  help.  It  is  the  fault  of 
his  nature.  Ke  is  the  object  of  pity  rath- 
er than  resentment.  And  had  I  such  a 
disposition  by  nature,  i  should,  prehaps, 
with  all  my  self-improvement,  find  it  a  dif- 
ficult thing  to  uKiuage.  And  therefore, 
though  f  can  never  elioose  such  a  one  for  an 
agreeahle  companion. yet  I  ought  not  to  har- 
bour a  dislike  to  him,  but  love,  and  pity,  and 
pray  for  him,  as  a  person  under  a  great 
misfortune;  and  be  thankful  that  I  am  not 
under  the  same. — "But  he  is  quite  blind  to 
this  fault  of  his  tem})er,  and  does  not  ap- 
pear to  be  in  the  least  sensible  of  it."' — 
Why,  that  is  a  ^neater  misfortune  still; 
and  he  ought  to  be  the  more  pitied.  And 
as  to  the  other  pretended  ground  of  dis- 
gust, "he  hath  often  offended  and  injured 
me:"'  Let  me  consider,  1.  Whether  an 
offence  was  really  intended;  whether  I  do 
not  impute  to  ill  nature,  which  was  onlj 
owing   to   ill  manners;  or   that   to  design, 


TO  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

which  proceeded  onl}^  from  ignorance.  Do 
I  not  take  offence  before  it  is  given?  If  so, 
the  ffiult  is  mine,  and  not  his.  And  the 
resentment  I  have  conceived  against  him, 
I  ought  to  turn  upon  myself.  [28] — Again, 
2.  Did  I  not  provoke  him  to  it,  when  I 
knew  his  temper?  The  fault  is  still  my 
own.  1  did,  or  might  know  the  pride,  pas- 
sion or  perverseness  of  his  nature;  why 
tiien  did  I  exasperate  him?  A  man  that 
would  needlessly  rouse  a  lion,  must  not 
expect  always  to  come  off  so  favourably 
as  the  hero  of  La  Mancha.— But,  3. 
Suppose  I  were  not  the  aggressor;  yet, 
how  came  I  into  his  company?  Who  led 
me  into  the  temptation?  He  hath  acted  ac- 
cording to  his  nature  in  what  he  hath  done ; 
but  1  have  not  acted  according  to  my  reas- 
on, in  laying  myself  so  open  to  him.  I 
knew  him;  why  did  I  not  shun  him,  as  I 
would  any  other  dangerous  animal  that 
does  mischief  by  instinct?  If  I  must  needs 
put  my  finger  into  a  wasp's  nest,  why 
should  I  blame  them  for  stinging  me? — 
Or,  4.  If  I  could  not  avoid  his  company, 
why  did  1  not  arm  myself?  Why  did  I  ven- 
ture defenceless  into  so  much  danger? — Or 
5.  Suppose  he  hath  done  me  a  real  and 
undeserved  injury,  without  my  fault  or 
provocation ;  yet  dQes  not  rny  discontent 


bOTH  CONSIST  71 

aggravate  it.^  Does  it  not  appear  jireater 
to  me,  liiHii  It  does  to  any  body  tlse.^  Or 
than  it  will  to  me,  after  the  present  fer- 
ment is  over.^ — And  lastly,  after  all,  must 
I  never  forgive.^  How  sliall  1  be  able  to 
repeat  the  Lord's  prayer,  or  read  our  Sav- 
iour's comment  upon  it,  (Matt  vi.  14,  15,) 
with  an  unforgiving  temper.^  Do  I  not 
h())je  to  be  forgiven  ten  tliousand  talents; 
and  cannot  r  forgive  my  fellow  servant  thir- 
ty pence. '^  VV'ien  1  know  not  but  he  hath 
repented,  and  (j!oj>  hath  foraiven  him, 
whose  fori^iveness  I  want  infinitely  m'>re 
tha-.i  my  <;reatest  enemy  does  mine.  (29) 

Such  considerations  are  of  great  use  td 
soften  our  prejudices  against  persons;  and 
at  once  to  discover  the  true  spring,  and 
prevent  the  bad  effects  of  them.  And 
happy  would  it  be  for  a  Christian,  co(dd 
he  l)ut  call  to  mind,  and  apply  to  his  relief, 
half  the  good  things  which  that  excellent 
heathen  emperor  and  phiiiosopher,  Mar- 
cus Antnrjius.  could  say  upon  this  sub- 
ject. Some  of  which  I  have,  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  Enidish  reader,  extracted  and 
thrown  into  the  margin,     [30] 

3.  The  mind  is  apt  to  be  prejudiced 
against  or  in  favour  of  certain  things  and 
actions,  as  well  as  certain  sentiments  and 
persons. 


72  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

Do  you  not  sometimes  find  c1p>1I.  clisa" 
greeable  ideas  annexed  to  eennin  places^ 
seasons,  or  employments, which  give  you  a 
secret  aversion  to  them.^  '1  hese  arise  from 
the  rSmenibrance  of  some  unpleasing  inci- 
dents you  have  heretofore  met  with,  and 
which  you  apprehend  niav  again  befal 
you  on  such  occasions.  But  tliey  are 
notliing  more  than  the  mere  misrepresen- 
tations of  fancy;  and  ought  to  be  repelled, 
because  they  will  be  apt  to  lead  you  to 
neglect  the  duties  of  your  character. 

If  therefore  you  find  in  yourself  a  se- 
cret disindiiuition  to  any  particular  action 
or  duty,  anri  the  mind  begins  to  cast  about 
for  exciises  and  reasons  to  justify  the 
neglect  of  it,  consider  the  matter  well:  go 
to  the  bottom  of  that  reluctance;  and 
senrch  out  what  it  is  that  gives  the  mind 
this  aversion  to  it.  Whether  it  be  the 
thing,  or  action  itself,  or  some  discourag- 
ing circuinstHnces  that  may  attend  it;  or 
son\e  disagreeable  consequences  that  may 
possibly  flow  from  it;  or  your  supposed 
unfitness  for  it  at  present.  Why,  all  these 
things  may  be  only  imaginary.  And  to 
neglect  a  plain  and  positive  duty  upon 
such  consideration,  shows  that  vou  are 
governed  by  appearances  more  than  real- 


DOTH  CONSIST.  '..5 

ities,  by  fancy  more   than  reason,   and  by 
inclination  more  tiian  conscience. 

But  let  I'ancy  muster  up  all  the  discour- 
aging circumstances,  and  set  them  in  the 
most  formidalile  light,  to  bar  your  way  to 
a  supposed  duty;  ibr  instance,  ''it  is  very 
difficult;  1  want  capacity,  at  least  am  so 
indisposed  to  it  at  present,  that  1  shall 
make  nothing  of  it;  and  then  it  will  be  at- 
tended with  danger  to  my  person,  reputa- 
tion or  peace ;  and  the  opposition  1  am 
like  to  meet  with  is  great,  &c."  But  after 
all,  is  the  call  of  Providence  clear?  Is  the 
thing  a  plain  duty.^  Such  as  reason,  con- 
science, and  scripture,  your  ofiice  charac- 
ter, or  personal  engagements,  call  upon 
you  to  discharge.?  If  so,  all  the  aforesaid 
objections  are  vain  and  delusive;  and  you 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  summon  youF 
courage,  and,  in  dependance  on  divine 
help,  to  set  about  tlie  business  immediate- 
ly, and  in  good  earnest,  and  in  the  best  and 
wisest  manner  you  can;  and  you  may  de- 
pend upon  it  you  will  find  the  greatest  dif- 
ficulty to  lie  only  in  the  first  attempt; 
these  frightful  aj)pearances  to  be  all  vis- 
ionary, the  mere  figments  of  fancy,  turning 
lambs  into  lions,  and  mole-hills  into  moun- 
tains; and  that  nothing  but  sloth,  folly  and 
self-indulgence  thus  set  your  imagination 

7 


74  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

on  work  to  deter  you  from  a  plain  duty. 
Your  heart  would  deceive  you,  but  you 
have  found  out  the  cheat,  and  do  not  be 
imposed  upon.     [31] 

i\gain,  suppose  the  thing  done;  consid- 
er how  it  vvill  look  then.  Take  a  view  of 
it  as  past;  and  whatever  pains  it  may 
cost  yon,  think  whether  it  will  not  be 
abundantly  recompensed  by  the  inward 
peace  and  pleasure,  which  arise  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  having  acted  right.  It  cer- 
tainly will.  And  the  difficulties  you  now 
dread,  will  enhanceyour  future  satisfaction. 
[32J  But  think  again  how  you  will  bear  the 
reflections  of  your  own  mind,  if  you  wil- 
fully neglect  a  plain  and  necessary  duty; 
whether  this  will  not  occasion  you  much 
more  trouble  than  all  the  pains  you  might 
be  at  in  performing  it.  And  a  wise  man 
will  always  determine-himself  by  the  end; 
or  by  such  a  retrospective  view  of  things, 
considered  as  past. 

Again,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  find  a 
strong  propension  to  any  particular  action* 
examine  that  with  the  like  impartiality. 
Perhaps  it  is  what  neither  your  reason  nor 
conscience  can  fully  approve.  And  yet 
every  motive  to  it  is  strongly  urged,  and 
and  every  objection  to  it  is  slighted.  Sense 
and  appetite  grow    iniportunate  and  cla- 


DOTH    CONSIST.  75 

moiuous,  and  want  to  lead,  wliile  reason 
remonstrates  in  vain.  But  turn  not  aside 
from  that  lailhfnl  and  friendly  monitor, 
whilst,  with  a  low,  still  voice,  siie  address- 
es you  in  this  soft  l)ut  earnest  ianguaf^e — 
"Hear  me,  I  beseech  yon,  but  this  one  word 
more.  The  action  is  indeed  out  of  char- 
acter; what  I  shall  never  approve.  The 
pleasure  of  it  is  a  ^reat  deal  overrated; 
you  will  certainly  be  disappointed.  It  is 
a  false  appearance  that  now  deceives  you. 
And  what  will  you  think  of  yourself  wlicn 
it  is  past,  and  you  come  to  reflect  serious- 
ly on  the  matter?  Believe  it,  you  will  then 
wish  you  had  taken  me  for  your  counsel- 
lor, instead  of  those  enemies  of  mine,  your 
lusts  and  passions,  which  have  so  often 
misled  you,  though  you  know  I  never  did." 
Such  short  recollections  as  these,  and  a 
little  leisure  to  take  a  view  of  the  nature 
and  consequences  of  things  or  actions,  be- 
fore we  reject  or  approve  them,  will  pre- 
vent much  false  judgment  and  bad  con- 
duct; and  by  degrees  wear  off  the  "^preju- 
dices which  fancy  has  fixed  in  the  mind, 
either  Un-  or  against  any  particular  action ; 
teach  us  to  distinguish  between  things  and 
their  appearances;  strip  them  of  those  false 
colours  that  so  often  deceive  us;  correct 


7G  WHEREIN    S'ELF-KNOWLEDGE 

the  sallies  of  the  imagination,  and  leave 
the  reins  in  the  hand  of  reason. 

Before  I  dismiss  this  head,  I  must  ob- 
serve, that  some  of  our  strongest  prejudi- 
ces arise  from  an  excessive  self-esteem,  or 
too  great  a  complacency  in  our  own  good 
sense  and  understanding.  Philatus  in  eve- 
ry thing  shews  himself  well  satisfied  with 
his  own  wisdom ;  which  makes  him  very 
impatient  of  contradiction,  and  gives  him 
a  distaste  to  all  who  shall  presume  to  op- 
pose their  judgment  to  his  in  any  thing. 
He  had  rather  persevere  in  a  mistake  than 
retract  it,  lest  his  judgment  should  suffer; 
not  considering  that  his  ingenuity  and 
good  sense  suffer  much  more  by  such  ob- 
stinacy. The  fulness  of  his  self-sufficien- 
cy makes  him  blind  to  those  imperfections, 
Vvhich  every  one  can  see  in  him  but  him- 
self. So  that,  however  wise,  sincere  and 
friendly,  however  gentle  and  seasonable, 
your  remonstrance  may  be,  he  takes  it 
immediately  to  proceed  from  ill-nature  or 
ignorance  in  you,  but  from  no  fault  in  him. 

Seneca,  1  remember,  tells  us  a  remarka- 
ble story,  which  very  well  illustrates  this 
matter. — Writting  to  his  friend  Lucilius, 
"My  wife  (says  lie)  keeps  Harpastes  in 
her  house  still,  who,  you  know,  is  a  sort  of 
family  fool,  and  an  incumbrance  upon  us. 


DOTH    CONSIST.  77 

For  my  part,  I  am  far  from  taking  any 
pleasure  in  such  prodigies.  If  I  have  a 
mind  to  divert  myself  witli  a  fool,  I  have 
not  far  to  go  for  one;  1  can  laugli  at  my- 
self This  silly  girl,  all  on  a  sduden,  lost 
her  eye-sight;  and  (which  perhaps  may 
seem  incredible,  but  it  is  very  true)  she 
does  not  know' she  is  blind;  but  is  every 
now  and  then  desiring  her  governess  to 
lead  her  abroad,  saying  the  house  is  dark. 
Now,  what  \we  laugh  at  in  this  poor 
creature,  you  may  observe,  hapi)ens  to  us 
all.  No  man  knows  that  he  is  covetous  or 
insatiable.  Yet  with  this  dilTerence;  the 
blind  seek  somebody  to  lead  them,  but  we 
are  content  to  wander  without  a  guide. — 
But  why  do  we  thus  deceive  ourselves? 
The  disease  is  not  without  us,  but  fixed 
deep  within.  And  therefore  is  the  cure  so 
difficult,  because  we  do  not  know  that  we 
are  sick." 


CHAP.  X. 

The  Necessity  and  Means  of  knowing  oui 
jYaiaral  Temper. 

AMOTiinn  very  important  branch  of  self- 
knowledge  is  the  knowledge  of  those  gov- 


78  WHER^lX  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

erning  passions  or  dispositions  of  the 
mind,  which  generally  form  what  we  call 
a  man's  natural  temper. 

The  difference  of  natnral  tempers  seems 
to  be  chiefly  owing  to  the  different  degrees 
of  influence  the  several  passions  have  up- 
on the  mind.  e.  g.  If  the  passions  are  ea- 
ger and  soon  raised,  we  say  the  man  is  of 
a  warm  temper;  if  more  sluggish  and 
slowly  raised,  he  is  of  a  cool  temper;  ac- 
cording as  anger,  malice  or  ambition  pre- 
vail, he  is  of  a  fierce,  chnrlish,  or  haughty 
temper;  the  influence  of  the  softer  pas- 
sions of  love,  pity,  and  benevolence,  forms 
a  sweet,  sympathizing  and  courteous  tem- 
per; and  when  all  the  passions  are  duly 
poised,  and  the  milder  and  pleasing  ones 
prevail,  they  make  what  is  commonly  call- 
ed a  quite  good  natured  man. 

So  that  it  is  the  prevalence  or  predom- 
inance of  any  particular  passion,  which 
gives  the  turn  or  tincture  to  a  man's  tem- 
per, by  which  he  is  distinguished,  and  for 
which  he  is  loved  and  esteemed,  or  shun- 
ned and  despised  by  others. 

Now  what  this  is,  those  we  converse 
with  are  soon  sensible  of.  They  present- 
ly see  the  faults  of  our  temper,  and  order 
their  behaviour  accordii^igly.  If  tiiey  are 
\YJse  and  well-mannered,  they  will  avoid 


DOTH    CONSIST.  79 

tonrbiiiG:  the  string  which  they  know  will 
jar  and  raise  a  discord  within  us.  If  they 
are  our  enemies,  they  will  do  it  on  pur- 
pose to  set  us  on  tormenting  ourselves. 
And  our  friends  we  must  suffer  sometimes 
wilh  a  gentle  hand  to  touch  it,  either 
by  way  of  pleasant  raillery  or  faithful  ad- 
vice. 

But  a  man  must  be  greatly  unacquaint- 
ed with  himself,  if  he  is  ignorant  of  his 
predominant  passion,  or  distinguishing 
temper,  when  every  one  observes  it.  And 
yet  how  common  is  this  piece  of  self-ig- 
norance? The  two  apostles,  James  and 
J(din,  discovered  it  in  that  very  action 
wherein  they  meant  to  express  nothing  but 
a  liearty  zeal  fur  their  Master's  honour; 
which  made  him  tell  them,  that  they  knew 
not  what  manner  of  spirii  they  were  of, 
(Luke  ix.  .O.)  i.  e.  that  instead  of  a  princi- 
ple of  love  and  genuine  zeal  for  him,  they 
were  at  that  tinje  governed  by  a  S|)irit  of 
pride,  reveuiie  and  cruelty;  and  vet  kuiw 
it  not.  And  that  the  apostle  .John  should 
be  liabb^  to  this  censure,  whose  tciuper 
seenied  io  'ic  ull  love  and  sveetness,  is  a 
meujorai)le  instance  hou  rfficnlt  a  thing 
it  is  for  a  man  at  all  tinx  s  to  know  his 
ov.n  spirit;  and  that  that  ])MSsioTK  which 
seems  to  have  the  least  power  over  his 


80  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

mind  may  on  some  occasions  insensibly  gain 
a  criminal  ascendant  there. 

The  necessity  of  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
our  reigning  passions  appears  further  from 
hence;  that  they  not  only  j^ive  h  tincture 
to  the  temper,  but  to  the  understanding  al- 
so; and  throw  a  strong  bias  on  the  judg- 
ment. They  huve  much  the  same  effect 
upon  the  eye  of  the  mind,  as  some  distem- 
pers have  upon  that  of  the  body.  If  they 
do  not  put  it  out,  they  weaken  it,  or  throw 
false  colours  before  it,  and  make  it  form  a 
wrong  judgment  of  things;  and,  in  short, 
are  the  source  of  those  forementioned  pre- 
judices, which  so  often  abuse  the  human 
understanding. 

Whatever  the  different  passions  them- 
selves that  reign  in  the  mind  may  be  ow- 
ing to,  whether  to  the  different  texture  of 
the  bodily  organs,  or  the  different  quanti- 
ty of  motion  of  the  animal  spirits,  or  to 
the  native  turn  and  cast  of  the  soul  itself; 
yet  certain  it  is,  that  men's  different  ways 
of  thinking  are  much  according  to  the 
predominance  of  their  different  passions; 
and  especially  with  regard  to  religion. 
Thus,  e.  g.  sve  see  melancholy  people  are 
apt  to  throw  too  much  gloom  upon  their 
religion,  and  represent  it  in  a  very  unin- 
viting and  unlovely  view,  as  all  austerity 


I>OTM  CONSIST.  81 

and  mortification;  whilst  they  who  are 
governed  by  the  more  gay  and  cheerful 
passions,  are  apt  to  run  into  the  other  ex- 
treme, and  too  ninch  to  miniile  the  plea- 
sures of  sense  with  those  of  religion;  and 
are  as  mucii  too  lax,  as  the  others  are  too 
severe.  A\u\  thus,  by  the  prejudice  or 
bias  of  their  resjiective  passions,  or  the 
force  of  their  natural  temper,  they  are  led 
into  different  mistakes. 

''So  that  would  a  man  know  himself,  he 
must  study  his  natural  temper,  his  consti- 
tutional inclinations,  and  favourite  pas- 
sions; for  by  these  a  man's  judj^ment  is 
easily  preverted,  and  a  wrong  bias  hung 
upon  his  mind:  these  are  the  inlets  of  pre- 
judice; the  unguarded  avenues  of  the 
mind,  by  which  a  thousand  errors  and  se- 
cret faults  find  admission,  without  being 
observed  or  taken  notice  of." 

And  that  we  may  more  easily  come  at 
the  knowledge  of  our  predominant  affec- 
tions, let  us  consider  what  outward  events 
do  most  impress  and  move  us,  and  in  what 
manner^ — \V'hat  is  it  that  usually  creates 
the  greatest  pain  or  ]:)leasure  in  ihe  mind? 
— And  as  for  pain,  a  stoic  indeed  may  tell 
ns,  "that  we  must  keep  things  at  a  dis- 
tance; let  nothing  that  is  outward  come 
within  us;  let  externals  be  externals  still." 


82  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

But  the  human  make  will  scarce  bear 
the  rigour  of  that  philosophy.  Outward 
things,  after  all,  will  impress  and  affect 
ns;  and  there  is  no  harm  in  this,  provided 
they  do  not  get  the  possession  of  us,  over- 
set our  reason,  or  lead  us  to  act  unbecom- 
ing a  man  or  a  Ciiristian.  And  one  ad- 
vantage we  mav  reap  from  hence  is,  the 
manner  or  degree  in  vihich  outward  things 
impress  us,  may  lead  us  into  a  better  ac- 
quaintance with  ourselves,  discover  to  us 
our  weak  side,  and  the  passions  which 
most  predominate  in  us. 

Our  pleasures  will  likewise  discover  our 
reigning  passions,  and  the  true  temper  and 
disposition  of  the  soul.  If  it  be  captiva- 
ted by  the  pleasures  of  sin,  it  is  a  sign  its 
prevailing  taste  is  very  vicious  and  cor- 
rupt; if  with  the  pleasures  of  sense,  very 
low  and  sordid  ;  if  imaginary  pleasures,  and 
the  painted  scenes  of  fancy  and  romance 
do  most  entertain  it,  the  soul  hath  then  a 
trifling  turn;  if  the  pleasures  of  science  or 
intellectual  improvements  are  those  it  is 
most  fond  of,  it  has  then  a  noble  and  re- 
fined taste;  but  if  its  chief  satisfactions 
derive  from  religion  and  divine  contem- 
plation, it  has  then  its  true  and  proper 
taste;  its  temper  is  as  it  should  be,  pure, 
divine,  and  heavenly  j  provided  these  satis- 


toOTH  CONSIST.  83 

factions  spring  from  a  truly  religions  prin-- 
cii)lc,  free  iVom  that  supersitition,  bigotry 
and  enthusiasm,  under  which  it  is  often  dis- 
guised. 

And  thus,  by  carefully  observing  what 
it  is  that  gives  the  mind  the  greatest  pain 
and  torment,  or  the  greatest  pleasure  and 
entertainment,  we  come  at  the  knowledge 
of  its  reigning  passions,  and  prevailing 
temper  and  disposition. 

'^Include  thyself,  tiim,  O  my  soul,  with- 
in tile  compass  of  thine  own  iieart;  if  it 
be  not  large,  it  is  deep,  and  thou  wilt 
there  find  exercise  enough.  Tiion  wilt  nev- 
er be  able  to  sound  it;  it  cannot  be  known 
but  by  Him,  who  tries  the  thonfj;hts  and 
reins.  But  dive  into  the  subject  as  deep 
as  thou  canst.  Examine  thyself;  and  this 
knowledge  of  that  which  passes  within 
thee,  will  be  of  more  use  to  thee,  than  the 
knowledge  of  all  that  passes  in  the  world. 
Cnncern  not  thyself  with  the  w^ars  and 
quarrels  of  public  or  private  persons. 
Take  cognizance  of  those  contests  which 
are  between  thy  flesh  and  thy  spirit;  be* 
twixt  the  lav/  of  thy  members,  and  that  of 
thy  understanding.  Appease  those  differ-^ 
cnces.  Teach  thy  flesh  to  be  in  subjec- 
tion. Replace  reason  on  its  throne;  and 
give  it  piety  for  its  consellor.     Tame  thy 


S4  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

passions,  and  bring  them  under  bondage; 
Put  thy  little  state  in  good  order.  Gov- 
ern wisely  and  holily  those  numerous  peo- 
ple which  are  contained  in  so  little  a  king- 
dom; that  is  to  say,  that  multitude  of  af- 
fections, thoughts,  opinions  and  passions 
which  are  in  thine  heart." 


CHAR  XL 

Concerning  the  secret  Springs  of  Actions, 

Another  considerable  branch  of  self- 
acfiuaintance  is,  ihe  knowledge  of  tlie 
trne  motives  and  secret  springs  of  our  ac- 
tions. 

This  will  sometimes  cost  us  much  pains 
to  acquire.  But  for  want  of  it;  we  shall 
be  in  danger  of  passing  a  false  judgment 
upon  our  actions,  and  of  entertaining  a 
wrong  opinion  of  our  conduct. 

It  is  not  only  vety  possible,  but  very 
common,  for  men  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
chief  inducements  of  their  behaviour;  and 
to  imagine  they  act  from  one  motive, 
whilst  they  are  apparently  governed  by 
another.  If  we  examine  our  views  and 
look  into  our  hearts  narrowly,  we  shall 


BOTH  «ONSIS«.  85 

find  that  tliey  more  frequently  deceive  us 
in  tliis  respect  than  we  are  aware  of;  by 
persuading  us  that  we  are  governed  by 
much  better  motives  than  we  really  are. 
The  honour  of  Gov,  and  the  interest  of  re- 
ligion, may  be  the  open  and  avowed  mo- 
tives; whilst  secular  interest  and  secret 
vanity  may  be  the  hidden  and  true  one. 
Whilst  we  think  we  are  serving  God,  we 
may  be  only  sacrificing  to  Mammon.  We 
may,  like  Jehu,  boast  our  zeal  for  the 
Lord,  when  we  are  only  animated  by  the 
heat  of  our  natural  passions;  (2  Rings  x. 
16.)  may  cover  a  censorious  spirit  under  a 
cloak  of  piety ;  and  giving  admonition  to 
others  may  be  only  giving  vent  to  our 
spleen. 

Many  come  to  the  place  of  public  wor- 
ship out  of  custom  or  ciniosity,  who  would 
be  thought  to  come  thither  only  out  of 
conscience.  And  whilst  their  extenal 
and  professed  view  is  to  serve  God,  and 
-gain  jjood  to  their  souls,  their  secret  and 
inward  motive  is  only  to  show  themselves' 
t©  advantage,  or  to  avoid  singularity,  and 
prevent  others  making  observations  on 
their  absence.  Munificence  and  almsgiv- 
ing may  often  proceed  from  a  principle  of 
pride  and  party  spirit,  when  it  may  appear 

8 


86  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

to  be  the  effect  of  pine  piety  and  charity, 
and  seeming  acts  of  friendship  fronr  a  mer- 
cenary motive. 

By  thus  disguising  our  motives,  we  may 
impose  upon  men,  but  at  the  same  time  we 
are  imposing  upon  ourselves;  and  whilst  , 
we  are  deceiving  others,  our  own  hearts 
deceive  us.  And  of  all  impostures,  self- 
deception  is  the  most  dangerous,  because 
least  suspected. 

Now,  unless  we  examine  this  point  nar- 
rowly, we  shall  never  come  to  the  bottom 
of  it;  and  unless  we  come  at  the  true 
spring  and  real  motive  of  our  actions,  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  form  a  right  judg- 
ment of  them ;  and  they  may  appear  very 
different  in  our  own  eye,  and  in  the  eye  of 
the  world,  from  what  they  do  in  the  eye 
of  God.  For  the  Lord  seeth  not  as  man 
seeth:  For  man  looketh  on  the  outward 
appearance,  but  the  Lord  looketh  on  the 
heart.  (1  Sam.  xvi.  7.)  And  hence  it  is, 
that  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among 
men,  is,  oftentimes,  abomination  in  the 
sight  of  God.  (Luke  xvi.  15.)  Every  way 
of  a  man  is  right  in  his  own  eyes;  but  the 
Lord  pondereth  the  hearts.  (Prov.  xxi.  2.) 


DOTH  CONSIST  87 


CHAP.  XII. 

Everyone  that  knows  himself^  is  in  a  partic- 
ular Manner  sensible  how  Jar  he  is  gov- 
erned by  a  Thirst  Jo  r  ^/Ipplause. 

Another  tliini?  necessary  to  unfold  a 
man's  heart  to  hims(ilf  is,  to  consider  what 
is  his  appetite  for  fame,  and  by  what 
means  he  seeks  to  gratifiy  it. 

Tiiis  passion  in  particular  havinr^  al- 
ways so  main  a  stroke,  and  oftentinies  so 
unsuspected  an  influence  on  the  most  im- 
portant parts  of  our  conduct,  a  perfect  ac- 
quaintance with'  it  is  a  very  material 
branch  of  self-knowledge,  and  therefore 
requires  a  distinct  consideration. 

Emulation,  like  tiie  other  passions  of 
the  human  mind,  shows  itself  much  more 
plainly,  and  works  much  more  strongly  in 
some  than  it  does  in  others.  It  is  in  itself 
innocent;  and  was  planted  in  our  natures 
for  very  wise  ends,  and,  if  kept  under 
proper  regulations,  is  capable  of  serving 
very  excellent  purposes;  otherwise  it  de- 
generates into  a  mean  and  criminal  ambi- 
tion. 


88  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDeE 

When  a  man  finds  something  within 
him  that  pushes  him  on  to  exc( !  in  worthy 
deeds,  or  in  actions  truly  good  and  virtu- 
ous, and  pursues  that  design  with  a  steady, 
unaffected  ardour,  without  reserve  or  false- 
hood, it  is  a  true  sign  of  a  noble  spirit. 
For  that  love  of  praise  can  never  be  crim- 
inal that  excites  and  enables  a  man  to  do 
a  great  deal  more  good  th.ui  he  could  do 
without  it.  And  perhaps  their  never  was 
a  fine  genius  or  a  noble  spirit,  that  rose  a- 
bove  the  common  level,  and  disLingi<ished 
itself  by  high  attainments  in  what  is  truly 
excellent,  but  was  secretly,  and  perhaps 
insensibly,  prompted  by  the  impulse  of  this 
passion. 

But,  on  the  contary,  if  a  man's  views 
centre  only  in  the  applause  of  others, 
whether  it  be  deserved  or  not;  if  he  pants 
after  popularity  and  fame,  not  regarding 
how  he  comes  by  it;  if  his  passion  for 
praise  urge  him  to  stretch  himself  beyond 
the  line  of  his  capacity,  and  to  atten)pt 
things  to  which  he  is  unequal;  to  conde- 
scend to  mean  arts  and  low  dissimulation 
for  the  sake  of  a  name;  and,  in  a  sinister, 
indirect  way,  sue  hard  for  a  little  incense, 
not  caring  from  whom  he  receives  it,  his 
ambition  then  becomes  vanity.  And  if  it 
excite  a  man  to  wicked  attempts,  make 


BOTM    CONSIST.  89 

him  willing  to  sacrifice  tlie  esteem  of  ail 
wise  and  good  men  to  the  acclamations  of 
a  mob;  to  overleap  the  bounds  of  decen- 
cy and  truth,  and  break  through  the  obli- 
gations of  lionour  and  virtue,  it  is  then  not 
only  vanity  but  vice;  and  vice  the  most 
destructive  to  the  peace  and  happiness  of 
human  society,  and  which,  of  all  others, 
hath  made  the  greatest  havoc  and  devas- 
tation among  men. 

What  an  instance  have  we  here  of  the 
wide  difference  between  common  opinion 
and  truth?  That  a  vice  so  big  with  mis- 
ciiief  and  misery  should  be  mistaken  for  a 
virtue!  And  that  they  who  have  been 
most  infamous  for  it,  should  be  crowned 
with  laurels,  even  by  those  who  have  been 
ruined  by  it;  and  have  those  laurels  per- 
petuated by  the  common  consent  of 
men,  through  after  ages!  Seneca's  judg- 
ment of  Alexandria  is  certainly  more  a- 
agreeable  to  truth  than  the  common  opin- 
ion;  who  called  him  "a  public  cut-throat, 
rather  timn  a  hero;  and  who,  in  seeking 
only  to  be  a  terror  to  mankind,  arose  to 
no  greater  an  excellence  than  what  be- 
longed to  the  most  hurtful  and  hateful  ani- 
mals on  earth."'     [33] 

Certain  it  is,  that  those  false  heroes, 
who  seek  their  glory   from  the  destruction 

8* 


/ 


90  WHEREIN  SELF-KXOWLEDGE 

of  their  own  species,  are  of  all  men  most 
ignorant  of  themselves;  and  by  this  \\  ick- 
ed  ambition  entail  infamy  and  curses  upon 
their  name,  instead  of  that  immortal  glo- 
ry they  pursued.  According  to  the  proph- 
et's words — Wo  to  him  who  coveteth  an 
evil  covetousness  to  his  house,  that  he 
may  set  his  nest  on  high  ;  that  he  may  be 
delivered  from  the  power  of  evil.  Thou 
hast  consulted  shame  to  thine  home,  by 
cutting  off  many  people:  and  hast  sinned 
against  thy  soul."  (Hab.  ii.  9,  10.)   [34J 

No  man  can  truly  know  himself  till  he 
be  acquainted  with  this,  which  is  so  often 
the  secret  and  unperceived  spring  of  his 
actions,  and  observes  how  far  it  governs 
him  in  his  conversation  and  conduct.  Vir- 
tue and  real  excellence  will  rise  to  view, 
though  they  be  not  mounted  on  the  wings 
of  ambition,  which,  by  soaring  too  high, 
procures  but  a  more  fatal  fall. 

And  to  correct  the  irregularity  and  ex- 
travagance of  this  passion,  let  us  but  re- 
flect how  airy  and  unsubstantial  a  plea- 
sure the  highest  gratifications  of  it  afford; 
how  many  cruel  mortifications  it  exposi  s 
■us  to,  by  awakening  the  envy  of  others;  to 
what  meanness  it  often  makes  us  submil ; 
how,  frequently  it  loserh  its  end  by  pur- 
suing it  with  too  much  ardour;  and 
how  m»ch  more  solid  pleasure  the  appro- 


DOTH    CONSIST.  01 

bation  of  conscience  will  yield,  than  the 
acclamations  of  ignorant  and  mis-iaken 
men,  who,  jndging  by  externals  only, 
cannot  know  our  true  character;  and 
whose  commendations  a  wise  man  would 
rather  despise  than  court.  "Examine  but 
the  size  of  people's  sense,  and  the  condi- 
tion of  their  understandings,  and  you  will 
never  be  fond  of  popularity,  nor  afraid  of 
censure  ;  nor  solicitous  what  judgment  they 
may  form  of  you,  who  know  not  how  to 
judge  of  rightly  themselves." 


CHAP.  XIII. 

j^liat  Kind   of  Know/edge  we  are   a/ ready 
furnished  with,  and  what  Degree  of  Es- 
teem we  set  upon  it. 

A  MAX  can  never  rightly  know  himself, 
unless  he  examines  into  his  knowledge  of 
other  things. 

We  must  consider  then  the  knowledge 
we  iiave;  and  whellur  we  do  not  set  too 
hi'ih  a  price  upon  it,  and  too  great  a  val- 
ue (ipcm  ourselves  on  the  account  of  it;  of 
what  real  use  it  is  to  us,  and  what  elfect 
it  has  upon  us;  whether  it  does  not  make 
us  too  siitV,  unsociable,  and  assuming;  tes- 


i)2  WHERSIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

ty  and  supercilious,  and  ready  to  despise 
others  for  their  supposed  ignorance.  If 
so,  our  knowledge,  be  it  what  it  will,  does 
us  more  harm  than  good.  We  were  better 
without  it;  ignorance  itself  would  not  ren- 
der us  so  ridiculous.  Such  a  temper,  with 
all  our  knowledge,  shows  that  we  know 
not  ourselves. 

"A  man  is  certainly  proud  of  that 
knowledge  he  despises  others  for  the  want 
of." 

How  common  is  it  for  some  men  to  be 
fond  of  appearing  to  know  more  than  they 
do,  and  of  seeming  to  be  thought  men  of 
knowledge!  To  which  end  they  exhaust 
their  fund  almost  in  all  companies,  to  out- 
shine the  rest.  So  that  in  two  or  three 
conversations  they  are  drawn  dry,  and  jou 
see  to  the  bottom  of  them  much  sooner 
than  you  could  at  first  imagine.  And  e- 
ven  that  torrent  of  learning,  which  they 
pour  out  upon  you  at  first  so  unmercifully, 
rather  confounds  than  satisfies  you;  their 
visible  aim  is  not  to  inform  your  judgment, 
but  display  their  own;  you  have  many 
things  to  query  and  except  against,  but 
their  loquacity  gives  you  no  room;  and 
their  good  sense,  set  off  to  so  much  ad- 
vantage, strikes  a  modest  man  dumb.  If 
you  insist  upon  your  right  to  examine,  they 
retreat  either  in  conj'usion  or  equivocation ; 


©OTH    CONSIST.  93 

and,  like  the  cuttle  fish,  throw  a  laroe 
quantity  of  ink  behind,  them  that  you  may 
not  see  where  to  pursue.  Whence  this  foi- 
ble flows  is  obvious  enough.  Self-knowl- 
edge would  soon  correct  it. 

But  as  some  ignorantly  affect  to  be  more 
knowing,  so  others  vainly  affect  to  be 
more  ignorant  than  th»\v  are:  who,  to 
show  tiiey  have  greater  insight  and  pen- 
etration than  other  men,  insist  upon 
the  absolute  uncertainty  of  science;  will 
dispute  even  first  principles;  grant  noth- 
ing as  certain,  and  so  run  into  downright 
Pvrrhonism;  the  too  commom  effect  of  ab- 
stracted debates  excessively  refined.  [35] 

Every  one  is  apt  to  set  the  greatest  val- 
ue upon  that  kind  of  knowledge,  in  which 
he  imagines  he  himself  most  excels;  and 
to  undervalue  all  other  in  comparison  of 
it.  There  wants  some  certain  rule,  then, 
by  which  some  men's  knowledge  is  to  be 
tried,  and  the  value  of  it  estimated.  And 
let  it  be  this — "That, is  the  best  and  most 
valuable  kind  of  knowledge,  that  is  most 
subservient  to  the  best  ends;  i,  e.  which 
tends  to  make  a  man  wiser  and  better,  or 
more  agreeable  and  useful,  both  to  himself 
and  others.*' — For  knowledge  is  but  a  means 
that  relates  to  some  end.  And  as  all 
means  are  to  be  judged  of  by  the  excellea- 


©4  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

cy  of  the  end,  and  their  expediency  to  pro- 
duce it;  so  that  must  be  the  best  knowl- 
edge that  hath  the  most  direct  tendency 
to  promote  the  best  ends:  viz,  a  man's 
own  true  happiness,  and  that  of  others; 
in  which  the  glory  of  God,  the  ultimate 
end,  is  ever  necessarily  comprised. 

Now,  if  we  were  to  judge  of  the  sever- 
al kinds  of  science  by  this  rule,  we  should 
find,  1.  Some  of  them  to  be  v^ry  hurtful 
and  pernicious;  as  tending  to  pervert  the 
true  end  of  knowledge ;  to  ruin  a  man's 
own  happiness,  and  make  him  more  injuri- 
ous to  society.— Such  is  the  knowledge  of 
vice,  the  various  temptations  to  it,  and  the 
secret  ways  of  practising  it;  especially  the 
arts  of  dissimulation,  fraud  and  dishones- 
ty. 2.  Others  will  be  found  unprofitable 
and  useless.  As  those  parts  of  knowl- 
edge, which,  though  they  may  take  up 
much  time  and  pains  to  acquire,  yet  an- 
swer no  valuable  purpose;  and  serve  on- 
ly for  amusement,  and  the  entertainment 
of  the  imagination.  For  instance,  an  ac- 
quaintance with  plays,  novels,  games  and 
modes,  in  which  a  man  may  be  very  criti- 
cal and  expert,  and  yet  not  a  whit  the 
wiser  or  more  useful  man.  3.  Other  kinds 
of  knowledge  are  good  only  relatively,  or 
conditionally,  and  may  be  more  useful  t© 


»OTft    CONSIST,  yfi 

one  tlian  to  another;  viz.  a  skill  in  a  man's 
particular  occupation  or  calliiig,  on  which 
his  credit,  livelihood,  or  usefulness  in  the 
world  depends.  And  as  the  kind  of 
knowledge  is  valuable  in  proportion  to  its 
end,  so  it  ought  to  be  cultivated  with  a 
diligence  and  esteem  answerable  to  that. 
Lastly,  other  kinds  of  knowledge  are  good, 
absolutely  and  universally;  viz.  the  knowl- 
edge of  God  and  ourselves;  the  nature  of 
our  final  hapi)incss  and  the  way  to  it. 
This  is  equally  nt-cessary  to  all.  And 
how  thankful  should  we  be,  that  we,  who 
live  under  tiie  light  of  the  gospel,  and  en- 
joy that  light  in  its  perfection  and  purity, 
have  so  many  happy  means  and  opportu- 
nities of  attaining  this  most  useful  and  ne- 
cessary kind  of  knowledLJ;e. 

A.  man  can  never  understand  himself 
then,  till  he  makes  a  right  estimate  of  his 
knowledge;  till  he  examines  what  kind  of 
knowledge  he  values  himself,  and  most  dili- 
gently cultivates;  how  high  a  value  he 
sets  upon  it;  what  good  it  does  him;  what 
effect  it  hath  upon  him;  what  he  is  the 
better  for  it;  what  end  it  answers  now;  or 
what  it  is  likely  to  answer  herafter. 

There  is  nothing  in  which  a  man's  self- 
ignorance  discovers  itself  more,  than  in 
the  esteem  he  hath  for  his  understanding, 


96  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

or  for  himseh  on  the  account  of  it.  It  is  a 
trite  and  true  observation,  that  empty 
things  make  the  most  sound.  Men  of  tlie 
least  knowledge  are  most  apt  to  make  a 
show  of  it,  and  to  value  themselves  upon 
it,  which  is  very  visible  in  frovvard,  con- 
fident youth,  raw,  conceited  academics, 
and  those  who,  uneducated  in  their  child- 
hood, betake  themselves  in  later  life  to 
reading,  without  taste  or  judgment,  only  as 
an  accomplishment,  and  to  make  a  show 
(of  scholarship;  who  have  just  learned 
enough  to  spoil  company,  and  render 
themselves  ridiculous,  but  not  enough  to 
make  either  themselves  or  others  at  all 
the  wiser. 

But  besides  the  forementioned  kinds  of 
knowledge,  there  is  another,  which  is  com- 
monly called  false  knowledge;  which, 
though  it  often  imposes  upon  men  under 
the  show  and  semblance  of  true 'knowl- 
edge, is  really  worse  than  ignorance.  Some 
men  have  learned  a  great  many  things,  and, 
have  taken  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  learn 
them,  and  stand  very  high  in  their  own  o- 
pinion  on  account  of  them,  which  yet  they 
must  unlearn  before  they  are  truly  wise. 
They  have  beten  at  a  vast  expense  of 
time,  and  pains,  nnd  patience,  to  heap  to- 
gether, and  to  confirm  themselves  in  a  set 


*OTH  CONSIST.  %7 

of  wrong  notions,  which  they  lay  up  in  their 
minds  as  a  fund  of  valuable  knowledge; 
which  if  they  try  by  the  foreinentioned 
rules,  viz.  "the  tendency  they  have  to  make 
them  wiser  and  better,  or  more  useful  and 
beneficial  to  others,"  will  be  found  to  bo 
worth  just  nothing  at  all. 

Beware  of  this  false  knowledge.  For 
as  there  is  nothing  of  which  men  are 
more  obstinately  tenacious,  so  there  is 
nothing  that  renders  them  more  vain,  or 
more  averse  to  self-knowledge.  Of  all 
things,  men  are  most  fond  of  their  wrong 
notions. 

The    apostle  Paul  often  speaks  of  these 
men,    and   their    self-sufficiency,    in    very 
poignant   terms;    who,  though  they  seem 
wise,  yet  (says  he)  must  become  fools   be- 
fore they  are  wise,  (1  Cor.  iii.  18.)   Though 
they  think  they  know   a  great  deal,  know 
nothing  yet  as  they,  ought  to  know.  (1  Cor. 
viii.  2.)    But   deceive  themselves,  by  think- 
ing themselves  something  when   they   are 
nothing.    (Gal.    vi.    3.)    And     whilst  they 
desire   to   be     teacheis   of  others,  under- 
stand    not  what    they     say,   nor  whereof 
they    affirm.  (1.    Tim.    i.    7.)    And   want 
themselves   to    be     taught    what   are  the 
first    rudiments     and     principles     of    wis- 
(^om.   (Heb.  v.  12.) 

9 


9S  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 


CHAP.  XIV. 

Concerning  the  Knoivledgc,  Guards  and  Gov- 
ernment  of  the  Thoughts. 

Another  part  of  self-knowledge  consists 
in  a  due  acquaintance  with  our  own 
thoughts,  and  the  inward  workings  of  the 
imagination.  • 

The  right  government  of  the  thoughts 
requires  no  small  art,  vigilance  and  reso- 
lution. But  it  is  a  matter  of  such  vast  im- 
portance to  the  peace  and  improvement  of 
the  mind,  that  it  is  worth  while  to  be  at 
some  pains  about  it.  A  man  that  hath  so 
numerous  and  turbulent  a  famil}'  to  govern 
as  his  own  thoughts,  which  are  too  apt  to 
be  at  the  command  of  his  passions  and  ap- 
petites, ought  not  to  be  long  from  home.  If 
he  be,  they  will  soon  grow  mutinous  and 
disorderly  under  the  conduct  of  those  two 
headstrong  guides,  and  raise  great  clam- 
ours and  disturbance,  and  sometimes  on 
the  slightest  occasions.  And  a  more 
dreadful  scene  of  misery  can  hardly  be 
imagined,  than  that  which  is  occasioned 
by  such  a  tumult  and  uproar  within,  when 
a  raging  conscience  or  inflamed  passions 


DOTH    CONSIST.  99 

are  let  loose  without  clieck  or  control.  A 
city  in  flames,  or  the  mutiny  of  a  drunken 
crew  on  board,  who  have  murdered  the 
captain,  and  are  butchering  one  another, 
are  i)ut  faint  emblems  of  it.  Tlie  torment 
of  the  mind,  under  such  an  insurrection 
and  merciless  ravage  of  the  jiassions,  is  not 
easy  to  be  conceived.  The  most  revenge- 
ful man  cannot  wish  his  enemy  a  greater. 

Of  what  vast  importance  then  is  it  for 
a  man  to  watch  over  his  thoughts,  in  or- 
der to  a  right  government  of  them:  to  con- 
sider what  kind  of  thoughts  find  the  easi- 
est admission,  in  what  manner  they  insin- 
uate themselves,  a'nd  upon  what  occa- 
sions! 

It  was  an  excellent  rule  which  a  wise 
heathen  prescribed  to  himself,  in  his  pri- 
vate meditations:  Manage  (saith  he)  all 
your  actions  and  thoughts  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  if  you  were  just  going  out  of  the 
world.  Again,  (saith  he)  A  man  is  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  unhappy  for  not  knowing  the 
thoughts  of  others;  but  he  that  does  not 
attend  to  the  motions  of  his  own,  is  cer- 
tainly miserable.  [36] 

It  may  be  worth  our  while  then  to  dis- 
cuss this  matter  a  little  more  precisely; 
and  consider,  1.  What  kind  of  thoughts 
are  to   be  excluded   or   rejected.     And   2, 


100  ITHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLED«E 

What  ought  to  be  indulged  and  ehtcrtai«- 
ed. 

1.  Some  thoughts  ought  to  be  immedi- 
ately banished  as  soon  as  they  have  fond 
entrance.— And  if  we  are  often  troidded 
with  them,  the  safest  way  will  be  to  keep 
a  good  guard  on  the  avenues  of  the  mind, 
by  which  they  enter,  and  avoid  those  oc- 
casions which  commonly  excite  them. 
For  sometimes  it  is  much  easier  to  prevent 
a  bad  thought  entering  the  mind,  than  to 
get  rid  of  it  when  it  is  entered. — More 
particularly, 

1.  Watch  against  all  fretful  and  discon- 
tented thoughts,  which  do  but  chafe  and 
corrode  the  mind  to  no  purpose.  To  har- 
bour these,  is  to  do  yourself  more  injury 
than  it  is  in  the  power  of  your  greatest 
enemy  to  do  you.  It  is  equally  a  Chris- 
tian's interest  and  duty  to  learn,  in  what- 
soever state  he  is,  therewith  to  be  content. 
(Phillip,  iv.   11.) 

2.  Harbour  not  too  anxious  and  appre- 
hensive thoughts.  By  giving  way  to  tor- 
menting fears,  suspicions  of  some  ap- 
proaching danger  or  troublesome  event 
we  not  only  anticipate,  but  double  the  e- 
vil  we  fear;  and  undergo  much  more  from 
the  apprehension  of  it  before  it  comes, 
than  from  the   whole  weight  of  it  when 


DOTH  CONSIST.  ]0I 

present.  Tliis  is  a  great  but  common 
weakness;  which  a  man  should  endeav- 
our to  arm  liimself  against  by  sucli  kind 
of  reflections  as  these: — "Are  not  all  these 
events  under  the  certain  direction  of  a 
wise  Providence?  If  they  befal  me,  they 
are  then  that  share  of  suffering  which  God 
both  appointed  me;  and  which  he  ex- 
pects 1  should  bear  as  a  Christian,  How 
often  hath  my  timorous  heart  magniiied 
former  trials  which  I  found  to  be  less  in  re- 
ality than  they  appeared  npon  their  ap- 
proach. And  perhaps  the  formidable  as- 
pect they  ]}ut  on,  is  only  a  stratagem  of  the 
great  enemy  of  my  best  interest,  designed 
on  purpose  to  divert  me  from  some  point 
of  my  duty,  or  to  draw  me  into  some  sin 
to  avoid  them.  However,  why  should  I 
torment  myself  to  no  purpose?  The  pain 
and  afiliction  the  dreadful  evil  will  give 
me  when  it  comes,  is  of  God's  sending; 
the  pain  I  feel  in  the  apprehension  of  it 
before  it  comes,  is  of  my  own  procuring. 
Whereby  I  often  make  my  suffering  more 
than  double;  for  this  overplus  of  them, 
which  1  bring  npon  myself,  is  often  great- 
er than  that  measure  of  iliem  which  iho 
hand  of  Providence  immediately  brings 
upon  me." 

3.  Dismiss,  as  soon  as  may  be,  all  angry 

9* 


102  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

and  wrathful  thoughts.  These  will  but 
canker  and  corrode  the  mind,  and  dispose 
it  to  the  worst  temper  in  the  world,  viz. 
that  of  fixed  malice  and  revenge.  Anger 
may  steal  into  the  heart  of  a  wise  man, 
but  it  rests  only  in  the  bosom  of  lools. 
(Eccl.  vii.  9.)  Make  all  the  most  candid 
allowances  for  the  offender.  Consider  his 
natural  temper.  Turn  your  anger  into 
pity.  Repeat  1  Cor.  xiii.  Think  of  the 
patience  and  meekness  of  Christ,  and  the 
petition  in  the  Lord's  prayer;  and  how 
much  you  stand  in  need  of  forgiveness 
yourself,  both  from  God  and  man;  how 
fruitless,  how  foolish  is  indulged  resent- 
ment; how  tormenting  to  yourself.  You 
have  too  much  good  nature  willingly  to 
give  others  so  much  torment;  and  why 
should  you  give  it  yourself ?  You  are  com- 
manded  to  love  your  neighbour  as  your- 
self, but  not  forbidden  to  love  yourself  as 
much.  And  why  should  you  do  yourself 
that  injury,  which  your  enemy  would  be 
glad  to  do  you?     [37 J 

But  above  all,  be  sure  to  set  a  guard  on 
the  tongue  whilst  the  fretful  mood  is  upon 
you.  The  least  spark  may  break  out  in- 
to a  conflagration,  when  cherished  by  a 
resentful  heart,  and  fanned  by  the  wind  of 
an    angry    breath.     Aggravating    expres° 


DOTH  CONSIST.  103 

sions  at  such  a  time,  are  like  oil  thrown 
upon  flames,  which  always  makes  ihein 
rage  the  more.     Especially, 

4.  H?inisli  all  malignant  and  revengeful 
thoughts.  A  spirit  ol"  revenge,  is  the  very 
spirit  of  the  devil,  than  which  nothing 
makes  a  man  more  like  him;  and  nothing 
can  he  more  opposite  to  (he  temper  which 
Christianity  was  designed  to  promote.  If 
your  revenge  be  not  satislied,  it  will  give 
you  torment  now;  if  it  be,  it  will  give  you 
greater  hereafter. — None  is  a  greater  self- 
tormentor  than  a  malicious  and  revengeful 
mnn,  who  turns  the  poison  of  his  own  tem- 
per in  upon  himself.  [38] 

5.  Drive  from  the  mind  all  silly,  trifling, 
and  unreasona!)le  thoughts;  which  some- 
times get  into  it  we  know  not  how,  and 
seize  and  possess  it  before  we  are  aware; 
and  hold  it  in  empty,  idle  amusements, 
that  yield  neither  pleasuse  nor  profit,  and 
turn  to  no  manner  of  account  in  the  world; 
only  comsume  time,  and  prevent  a  better 
employment  of  the  mind.  And  indeed 
there  is  little  difference  whether  we  spend 
the  time  in  sleep,  or  in  thf^se  waking 
dreamy.  Nay,  if  the  thfM'rrhts  which  il.ns 
insensi!)ly  steal  upcui  voi!  he  nor  altogeth- 
er Mhsnrd  and  uhimsio;!.  vet  if  ihev  he 
imperiimeut  and  unseasonable,  they  ought 


104  WHEREIN    SELF-KNGWLEBGE 

to   be  dismissed,  because    they  keep  out 
better  company. 

6.  Cast  out  all  wild  and  extravagant 
thoughts,  all  vain  and  fantastical  imagin- 
ations. Suffer  not  your  thoughts  to  roam 
upon  things  that  never  were,  and  perhaps 
never  will  be;  to  give  you  a  visionary 
pleasure  in  the  prospect  of  what  you  have 
not  the  least  reason  to  hope,  or  a  needless 
PR  in  in  the  apprehension  of  what  you 
have  not  the  least  reason  to  fear.  The 
truth  is,  next  to  a  clear  conscience  and  a 
sound  judgment,  there  is  not  a  greater 
blessing  than  a  regular  and  well  govern- 
ed imagination:  to  be  able  to  view  things 
as  they  are,  in  their  true  light  and  proper 
colours;  and  to  distinguish  the  false  ima- 
ges that  are  painted  on  the  fancy,  from 
the  representations  of  truth  and  reason. 
For  how  common  a  thing  is  it  for  men,  be- 
fore they  are  aware,  to  confound  reason 
and  fancy,  truth  and  imagination,  togeth- 
er? To  take  the  flashes  of  the  animal 
spirit  for  the  light  of  evidence;  and  think 
they  believe  things  to  be  true  or  false, 
when  they  only  fancy  them  to  be  so?  and 
fancy  them  to  be  so,  because  they  would 
have  them  so?  Not  considering  that  mere 
fancy  is  only  the  ignis  fatuus  of  the  mind; 
which  often  appears    brightest,  when  the 


DOTH  CONSIST  iO^ 

mind  is  most  covered  with  darkness;  and 
will  be  sure  to  lead  them  astray,  who  fol- 
low it  as  their  guide.  iSear  akin  to  tiiese 
are, 

7.  Romantic  and  chimerical  thoughts. 
By  which  I  mean  that  kind  of  wild-fire, 
which  the  briskness  of  the  animal  spirit 
sometimes  suddenly  flashes  on  the  mind, 
and  excites  imaoes  that  are  so  extremely 
ridiculous  and  absurd,  that  one  can  scarce 
forbear  wondering  how  they  could  get  ad- 
mittance. These  random  fiiiihts  of  the 
fruic}''  are  soon  gone;  and  herein  differ 
from  tiiat  castle-building  of  the  imagina- 
tion before  mentioned,  which  is  a  more 
settled  amusement.  But  these  are  too  in- 
coherent and  senseless  to  be  of  long  con- 
tinuance; and  are  the  maddest  sallies,  and 
the  most  ramping  reveries  of  the  fancy 
that  can  be.  1  know  not  whether  my  read- 
er understands  now  what  I  mean;  but  if 
he  attentively  regards  all  that  passes 
through  his  mind,  perhaps  he  may  Iiereaf- 
ter,  by  experience. 

8.  Repel  all  impure  and  lascivious 
thouglils ;  which  taint  and  pollute  the  mind  ; 
and  though  hid  from  men,  are  known  to 
God,  in  whose  eyethcy  are  abominable.  Our 
Saviour  warns  lis  against  these  as  a  kind 
<jf  spiritual  fornication,  (Matt.  v.  28.)  and  in- 


106  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

consistent  with  that  purity  of  heart  which 
his  gospel  requires. 

9.  Take  care  how  you  too  much  in- 
dulfre  gloomy  and  melancholy  thoughts. 
Some  are  disposed  to  see  every  thing  in  the 
worst  light.  A  hlack  cloud  hangs  hovering 
over  their  minds;  which,  when  it  falls  in 
showers  through  their  eyes,  is  dispersed; 
and  all  within  is  serene  again.  This  is  of- 
ten purely  mechanical;  and  owing  either 
to  some  fault  in  the  bodily  constitution,  or 
some  accidental  disorder  in  the  animal 
frame.  However,  one  that  consults  the 
peace  of  his  own  mind,  will  be  upon  his 
guard  against  this,  which  so  often  robs  him 
of  it. 

10.  On  the  other  hand,  let  not  the  ima- 
gination be  too  sprightly  and  triumphant. 
Some  are  as  unreasonbly  exalted,  as  oth- 
ers are'depressed  ;  and  the  same  person  at 
different  times  often  runs  into  both  ex- 
tremes; according  to  the  different  temper 
and  flow  of  the  animal  spirit.  And  there- 
fore the  thoughts,  which  so  eagerly  croud 
into  the  mind  at  such  times,  ought  to 
be  suspected  and  well  guarded ;  otherwise 
they  will  impose  upon  our  judgments,  and 
lead  us  to  form  such  a  notion  of  ourselves 
and  of  things,  as  we  shalj  soon  see  fit  to 


DOTH    CONSISt.  lOY 

alter,  when  the   mind  is  in  a  more  settled 
and  sedate  frame. 

Before  we  let  our  thoughts  judge  of 
things,  we  must  set  reason  to  judge  our 
thoughts;  for  they  are  not  always  in  a 
proper  condition  to  execute  that  office.  We 
do  not  believe  the  character  which  a  man 
gives  us  of  another,  unless  we  have  a 
good  opinion  of  his  own ;  so  neither  should 
we  believe  the  verdict  which  the  mind 
pronounces,  till  we  first  examine  whether 
it  be  impartial  and  unbiassed;  whether  it 
be  in  a  proper  temper  to  judge,  and  have 
proper  lights  to  judge  by.  The  want  of 
this  previous  act  of  self-judgmemt,  is  the 
cause  of  much  self-deception  and  false 
judgment. 

Lastly;  with  abhorence  reject  imme- 
diately all  profane  and  blasphemous 
thoughts;  which  are  sometimes  suddenly 
injected  into  the  mind,  we  know  not  how, 
though  we  may  give  a  pretty  good  guess 
from  whence.  And  all  those  thoughts 
which  are  apparently  temptations  and  in- 
ducements  to  sin,  our  Lord  hath,  by  his 
example,  taught  us  to  treat  in  this  manner. 
(Matt.  iv.  10.) 

These  then  are  the  thoughts  we  should 
carefully  guard  against. — And  as  they 
will   (especially  some  of   them)    be    fre° 


i08  WHERBIIV  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

^nently  insinuating  themselves  into  the 
heart,  remember  to  set  reason  at  the  door 
of  it  to  guard  the  passage,  and  bar  their 
entrance,  or  drive  them  out  forthwith  \\  hen 
entered ;  not  only  as  impertinent,  but  mis^ 
(Shievous  intruders. 

But,  2.  There  are  other  kinds  oi 
thoughts  which  we  ought  to  indulge,  and 
with  great  care  and  diligence  retain  and 
improve. 

Whatever  thoughts  give  the  mind  a  ra- 
tional or  religious  pleasure,  and  tend  to 
improve  the  heart  and  understanding,  are 
to  be  favoured,  often  recalled,  and  care- 
fully cultivated.  Nor  should  we  dismiss 
them,  till  they  have  ntiade  some  impres- 
sions on  the  mind,  which  are  likely  to  a- 
bide  there. 

And  to  bring  the  mind  into  a  habit  of 
recovering,  retaining,  and  improving  such 
thoughts,  two  things  are  necessary. 

1.  To  habituate  ourselves  to  a  close  and 
rational  way  of  thinking.  And,  2.  To 
moral  reflections,  and  religious  contem- 
plations, 

1.  To  prepare  and  dispose  the  mind  for 
the  entertainment  of  good  and  useful 
thoughts,  we  must  take  care  to  accustom 
it  to  a  close  and  rational  way  of  thinking. 

When  you  have  started  a  good  thought^ 


botil  coNsisi;.  lot) 

pursue  it ',  do  not  presently  lose  sigitt  of 
it,  or  suffer  any  trifling  suggestion  that  may 
intervene  to  divert  you  from  it.  Dismiss  it 
not  till  you  have  sifted  and  exhausted  it; 
and  well  considered  the  several  conse- 
quences and  inferences  that  result  from  it. 
However,  retain  not  the  subject  any  long- 
er than  you  tind  your  thoughts  run  freely 
upon  it;  for  to  confine  tliem  to  it  wlien  it 
is  quite  worn  out,  is  to  give  them  an  unna- 
tural bent,  without  sufficient  employment; 
which  will  make  them  flag,  or  be  more  apt 
to  run  off  to  something  else. 

And  to  keep  the  mind  intent  on  the  sub- 
ject you  think  of,  you  must  be  at  some 
pains  to  recal  and  refix  your  desultory  and 
rambling  thoughts.  Lay  open  the  subject 
in  as  many  lights  aiid  views  as  it  is  capa- 
ble of  being  represented  in.  Clothe  your 
best  ideas  in  pertinent  and  well  chosen 
words,  deliberately  pronounced;  or  com- 
mit them  to  writing. 

Whatever  be  the  subject,  admit  of  no  in- 
ferences from  it,  but  what  you  see  plain 
and  natural.  This  is  the  way  to  furnish 
the  mind  with  true  and  solid  knowledge. 
As,  on  the  contary,  false  knowledge  pro- 
ceeds from  not  understanding  the  subject, 
or  drawing  inferences  from  it  which  are 
forced  and    unnatural ;    and    allowing    to 

10 


110  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDCrE 

those  precarious  inferences,  or  conse° 
quences  drawn  from  them,  the  same  degree 
of  credibility,  as  to  the  most  rational  and 
best  established  principles. 

Beware  of  a  superficial,  slight,  or  con-= 
fused  view  of  things.  Go  to  the  bottom 
of  them,  and  examine  the  foundation;  and 
Ve  satisfied  with  none  but  clear  and  dis-*- 
tinct  ideas  (when  they  can  be  had)  in  ev- 
ery thing  you  read,  hear,  or  think  of.  For 
resting  in  imperfect  and  obscure  ideas, 
is  the  source  of  much  confusion  and  mis- 
take. 

Accustom  yourself  to  speak  naturally^ 
pertinently  and  rationally,  on  all  subjects, 
and  you  will  soon  learn  to  think  so  on  the 
the  best;  especially  if  you  often  converse 
with  those  persons  that  speak,  and  those 
authors  that  write  in  that  manner. 

Such  a  regulation  and  right  manage- 
ment of  your  thoughts  and  rational  pow- 
ers, will  be  of  great  and  general  advan- 
tage to  you,  in  the  pursuit  of  useful  knowl- 
edge, and  a  good  guard  against  the  le- 
vities and  frantic  sallies  of  the  imagina- 
tion. Nor  will  you  be  sensible  of  any  dis- 
advantage attending  it,  excepting  one.  viz. 
its  making  you  more  sensible  of  the  weak- 
ness and  ignorance  of  others,  who  are  of- 
ten talking  in  a    random,  inconsequential 


DOTH    CONSIST.  1 1  1 

manner;  and  whom  it  may  oftentimes  be 
more  prurient  to  bear  with,  than  contra- 
dict. But  tiie  vast  benefit  this  mpthod 
will  be  of  in  tracing  out  trutii,  and  detect- 
ing error,  and  the  satisfaction  it  will  give 
you  in  the  cool  and  regular  exercise  of 
self-employment,  and  in  the  retaining,  i)ur- 
suing,  and  improving  good  and  useful 
thoughts,  will  more  than  compensate  that 
petty  disadvantage. 

2.  If  we  would  have  the  mind  furnished 
and  entertained  with  good  thouglits,  wo 
must  inure  it  to  moral  and  religious  sub- 
ject. 

It  is  certain  the  mind  cannot  be  more 
nobly  and  usefully  employed  than  in  such 
kind  of  contemplations.  Because  the 
knowledge  it  thereby  reqaires,  is  of  all 
others  the  most  excellent  knowledge;  and 
that  both  in  regard  of  its  object  and  its 
end ;  the  object  of  it  being  God,  and  the 
end  of  it  eternal  happiness. 

The  great  end  of  religion  is  to  make  us 
like  God,  and  to  conduct  us  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  him.  A.nd  whatever  hath  not 
this  plain  tendency,  and  especially  if  it 
have  the  contrary,  men  may  call  religion, 
(if  they  please)  but  they  cannot  call  it 
more  out  of  its  name.  And  whatever  is 
called  religious  knowledge,  if  it  does  noC 


112  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEBGE 

ilirect  us  in  the  way  to  this  end,  is  not  re- 
ligious knowledge ;  but  something  else 
falsely  so  called.  And  some  are  unhappi- 
ly accustomed  to  such  an  abuse  of  words 
and  understanding,  as  not  only  to  call,  but 
to  think  those  things  religion,  which  are 
quite  the  reverse  of  it,  and  tiiose  notions 
religious  knowledge,  which  lead  them  the 
farthest  from  it. 

The  sincerity  of  a  true  religious  princi- 
ple, cannot  be  better  known,  tiian  by  the 
readiness  with  which  the  thoughts  advert 
to  God,  and  the  pleasure  with  which  they 
are  employed  in  devout  exercise.  And 
though  a  person  may  not  always  be  so 
well  pleased  with  hearing  religious  things 
talked  of  by  others,  whose  different  taste, 
sentiments,  or  manner  of  expression,  may 
have  something  disagreeable;  yet  if  he 
have  no  inclination  to  think  of  them  him- 
self, or  to  converse  with  himself  about 
them,  he  hath  great  reason  to  suspect  that 
his  heart  is  not  right  with  God.  But  if 
he  frequently  and  delightfully  exercise  his 
mind  in  divine  contemplations,  it  will  not 
.  only  be  a  good  mark  of  his  sincerity,  but 
will  habitually  dispose  it  for  the  reception 
of  the  best  and  most  useful  thoughts,  and 
fit  it  for  the  noblest  entertainments. 

Upon  the  whole,  then,  it   is  of  as  great 


liOTH  CONSIST.  113 

impoitnncc  for  a  man  to  take  heed  what 
thoughts  he  entertains  as  what  company 
he  keeps;  for  they  have  the  same  effect 
upon  the  mind.  Bad  thoughts  are  as  in- 
fectious as  bad  company;  and  good 
thoughts  solace,  instruct,  and  entertain  the 
mind,  like  good  company.  And  this  is 
one  great  advantage  of  retirement;  that  a 
man  may  choose  what  company  he  please? 
from  within  himself. 

As  in  the  world  we  oftener  light  into 
bad  company  than  good,  so  in  solitude  we 
are  oftener  troubled  with  impcrtiment  and 
unprofitable  thoughts,  than  entertained 
with  agreeable  and  useful  ones.  And  a 
man  that  hath  so  far  lost  the  command  of 
himself,  as  to  lie  at  the  mercy  of  every 
foolish  or  vexing  thought,  is  much  in  the. 
same  situation  as  a  host,  whose  house  is 
open  to  all  comers;  whom,  though  ever  so 
noisy,  rude  and  troublesome,  he  cannot  get 
rid  of;  but  with  this  difference,  that  the 
latter  hath  some  recompense  for  his  trou- 
ble, the  former  none  at  all:  but  is  robbed 
of  his  peace  and  quiet  for  nothing. 

Of  such  vast  importance  to  the  ])eace 
as  well  as  the  improvement  of  the  mind,i< 
the  right  regulation  of  the  thoughts,  Thi?? 
must  be  my  apology  for  dwelling  so  long  oit 
this  branch  of  the  subject;  which  I  shall 

10* 


!  14  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

conclude  with  this  one  observation  more; 
that  it  is  a  very  dangerous  thing,  to  think 
as  too  many  are  apt  to  do,  that  it  is  a  mat- 
ter of  indifference  what  thoughts  they  en- 
tertain in  their  hearts;  since  the  reason  of 
things  concurs  viith  the  testimony  of  the  ho- 
ly scriptures  to  assure  us,  that  the  allowed 
thought  of  foolishness  is  sin.  (Prov.  xxiv. 
9.)  [39] 


CHAP.  XV. 

Concerning  the  Memory. 

A  MAN  that  knows  himself  will  have  a 
regard  not  only  to  the  management  of  his 
thoughts,  but  to  the  improvement  of  his 
memory. 

The  memory  is  that  faculty  of  the  soul, 
which  was  designed  for  the  store-house  or 
repository  of  its  most  useful  notions; 
where  they  may  be  laid  up  in  safety,  to  be 
produced  upon  proper  occasions. 

Now  a  thorough  self-acquaintance  can- 
not be  had  without  a  proper  legard  to  this 
in' two  respects,  1,  Its  furniture.  2.  Its 
improvement. 

i,  A  maii  that  knows  himself  will  have 


BOTH    CONSlSt.  J  15 

a  regard  to  the  furniture  of  his  memory; 
not  to  load  it  with  trash  and  himber,  a 
set  of  unless  notions  or  low  conceits,  which 
he  will  be  ashamed  to  produce  before  per- 
sons of  taste  and  judgment. 

If  the  retention  be  bad,  do  not  crowd  it. 
It  is  of  as  ill  consequence  to  overlade  a 
weak  memory,  as  a  weak  stomach.  And 
th.'it  it  may  not  be  cumbered  with  trash, 
take  heed  what  company  you  keep,  what 
books  you  read,  and  what  thoughts  you 
favour;  otherwise  a  great  deal  of  useless 
rubbish  may  hx  there  before  you  are  a- 
ware,  and  take  up  the  room  which  outrht 
to  be  possessed  by  better  notions.  But 
let  not  a  valuable  thought  slip  from  you, 
thoiiii:h  you  pursue  it  with  much  time  and 
pains  before  you  overtake  it.  The  regaining 
and  refixitig  it  may  be  of  more  avail  to 
you  than  many  hour's  reading. 

VV^hat  pity  it  is  that  men  should  take 
such  immense  pains,  as  some  do,  to  learn 
those  things,  which,  as  soon  hs  they  be- 
come wise,  they  must  take  as  much  pains 
to  unlearn! — A  thought  that  should  make 
us  very  curious  and  cautions  about  the 
proper  furniture  of  our  miiids. 

2.  Self-knowledge  will  acquaint  a  mm 
with  the  extent  and  CRpacitv  of  his  mem- 
ory, and  the  ri^ht  way  to  improve  it. 


116  WHERWN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

There  is  no  small  art  in  improving  a 
weak  memory,  so  as  to  turn  it  to  as  great 
an  advantage  as  nr>any  do  their's  which 
are  much  stronger.  A  few  short  rules  to 
this  purpose  may  be  no  uaproiitable  dis- 
gression, 

1.  Beware  of  every  sort  of  intemper- 
ance in  the  indulgence  of  the  appetites 
and  passions.  Excesses  of  all  kinds  do  a 
great  injury  to  the  memory. 

2.  If  it  be  weak,  do  not  overlade  it. 
Charge  it  only  with  the  most  useful  and 
solid  notion.  A  small  vessel  should  not 
be  stuffed  with  lumber.  But  if  its  freight 
be  precious,  and  judiciously  stowed,  "it 
hiay  be  more  valuable  than  a  ship  of  twice 
its  burden. 

3.  Recur  to  the  help  of  a  common  place 
book,  according  to  Mr.  Locke's  method; 
[40]  and  review  it  once  a  year.  But  take 
care  that  by  confiding  to  your  minutes  or 
memorial  aids,  you  do  not  excuse  the  la- 
bour of  the  memory;  which  is  one  disad- 
vantage attending  this  method. 

4.  Take  every  opportunity  of  uttering 
5'our  best  thonj?hts  in  oAwersation,  when 
the  subject  will  admit  it;  that  will  deep- 
ly imprint  them.  Hence  the  tales  which 
ccnimon  storv-teilers  relate,  they  never 
forget,  though  ever  so  silly. 


BOTH  CONSIST.  117 

5.  Join  to  the  idea  you  would  remem- 
ber, some  oilier  that  is  more  frimilar  to 
you,  wliicli  bears  some  similitude  to  it, 
either  in  its  nature,  or  in  the  sound  of  the 
word  by  whicli  it  is  expressed  ;  or  that  hath 
some  relation  to  it  either  in  time  or  place. 
And  then  by  recallinii  this,  v.  hich  is  easi- 
ly remembered,  you  will  (by  that  conca- 
tenation or  connexion  of  icUas  which  Mr. 
Locke  takes  notice  of)  draw  in  that  which 
is  thus  linked  or  joined  with  it;  which 
otherwise  you  might  hunt  after  in  vain. — • 
This  rule  is  of  excellent  use  to  help  you  to 
remember  names. 

6.  What  you  are  determined  to  remem- 
ber, think  of  before  you  go  to  sleep  at 
night,  and  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
when  the  faculties  are  fresh.  And  recol- 
lect at  evening  every  thing  worth  remem- 
bering the  day  past. 

7.  Think  it  not  enough  to  furnish  this 
store-house  of  the  mind  with  good 
thoughts,  but  lay  them  up  there  in  order, 
digested  or  ranged  unHer  proper  subjects 
or  classes;  that,  whatever  subjects,  you 
have  occasion  to  think  or  talk  upon,  you 
may  have  recourse  immediately  to  a 
good  thought  which  you  heretofore  laid  up 
there  under  that  subject.  So  that  the  ve- 
ry mention  of  the  subject  may  bring  the 
thought  to  hand ;  by  w  hich  means  you  will 


lis  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

carry  a  regular  common  place  book  in 
your  memory.  And  it  may  not  be  amiss 
sometimes  to  take  an  inventory  of  this 
mental  furniture,  and  recollect  how  many 
good  thoughts  you  have  treasured  np  un- 
der such  particular  subjects,  and  whence 
you  had  them. 

Lastly,  nothing  helps  the  memory  more 
than  often  thinking,  writing  or  talking  on 
the  subjects,  you  would  remember. — But 
enough  of  this. 


CHAP.  XVI. 

Concernins:  the  Mental  Taste, 


"Q 


A  MAN  that  knows  himself,  is  sensible 
of,  and  attentive  to  the  particular  taste 
of  his  mind,  especially  in  matter  of  reli- 
gion. 

As  the  late  Mr.  Howe  judiciously  ob- 
serves, '-there  is  besides  bare  understand- 
ing and  judgment,  and  diverse  from  that 
heavenly  gift,  which  in  the  scripture  is 
called  grace,  such  a  thing  as  gust  and  rel- 
ish belonging  to  the  mind  of  man,  (and,  I 
doubt  not,  with  all  men,  if  they  observe 
themselves)  and  which  are  as  unaccounta- 


»OTH  CONSIST.  il9 

ble  and  as  various  as  the  relishes  and  dis- 
gusts of  sense. — 'J'his  they  only  wonder  at 
who  understand  not  themselves,  or  will  con- 
sider nobody  but  themselves. — So  that  ii 
cannot  be  said,  universally,  that  it  is  a 
better  judgiuent,  or  more  grace  that  deter- 
mines men  the  one  way  or  the  other;  but 
somewhfit  in  the  temjjer  of  their  minds  dis- 
tinct from  both,  which  I  know  not  how  bet- 
ter to  express  than  by  mental  taste.  And 
this  hath  no  more  of  myslery  in  it,  than 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  belonging  to  our 
natures  as  comi)lacency  and  displaceucy 
in  reference  to  tl'.e  objects  of  the  mind. 
And  this,  in  the  kind  of  it,  is  as  common  to 
men  as  human  nafurcj  but  as  much  diver° 
sifted  in  individuals  as  men's  other  inclina-* 
tions  are." 

Now  this  different  taste  in  matters  rela-. 
ting  to  religion,  (though  it  may  be  some- 
times natural,  or  what  is  born  with  a  man, 
yet)  generally  arises  from  the  diffciences 
of  education  and  custom.  7\nd  the  true 
reason  why  some  persons  have  an  inveter- 
ate disrelish  to  certain  circumstantials  of 
religion,  though  ever  so  justifiable,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  fixed  esteem  for  others 
that  are  more  exceptionable,  may  be  no 
better  than  wlial  I  have  heard  some  very 
honestly  profess,  viz.   that    the  one  they 


120  WHEREIN    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

have  been  used  to,  and  the  other  not.  As 
a  person  by  long  use  and  habit  acquires  a 
greater  relish  for  coarse  and  unwbolt  sf^me 
food  than  the  most  delicate  diet;  so  a  per- 
son long  habituated  to  a  set  of  phrasesj 
notions,  and  modes^may,  by  degrees,  come 
to  have  such  a  veneration  and  esteem  for 
them,  as  to  despise  and  condemn  others 
which  he  has  not  been  accustomed  to, 
though  perhaps  more  edifying  and  more 
agreeable  to  scripture  and  reason. 

This  particular  taste  in  matters  of  reli- 
gion differs  very  much  (as  Mr.  Howe 
well  observes)  both  from  judgment  and 
grace. 

However,  it  is  often  mistaken  for  both. 
When  it  is  njistak^n  for  the  former,  it 
leads  to  error;  when  mistaken  for  the  lat- 
ter, to  censoriousness. 

This  different  taste  of  mental  objects 
is  much  the  same  with  that,  which,  with 
regard  to  the  objects  of  sense,  we  call  fan- 
cy;  for  as  one  man  cannot  be  said  to  have 
a  better  judgment  in  food  than  another, 
purely  because  he  likes  some  kind  of 
meats  better  than  he;  so  neither  can  he 
be  said  to  have  a  better  judgment  in  mat- 
ters of  religion,  purely  because  he  hath 
a  greater  fondness  for  some  particular  doc- 
trines and  forms. 


t)OTH    CONSI&T.  121 

iBut  thoiigli  this  mental  taste  be  not  the 
same  as  the  judgment,  yet  it  often  draws 
the  judgment  to  it,  and  sometimes  very 
much  perverts  it. 

This  appears  in  nothing  more  evidently 
than  in  the  judgment  people  pass  upon  the 
sermons  they  hear.  Some  are  best  pleas- 
ed with  those  discourses  which  are  pathet- 
ic and  warming;  others  with  what  is  more 
solid  and  rational,  and  others  with  the 
sublime  and  mystical;  nothing  can  be  too 
plain  for  the  taste  of  some,  or  too  refined 
for  that  of  others.  Some  are  for  having 
the  address  only  to  their  reason  and  un- 
derstanding, others  only  to  their  affections 
and  passions,  and  others  to  their  experi- 
ence and  consciences.  And  every  hearer 
or  reader  is  apt  to  judge  according  to  his 
particular  taste,  and  to  esteem  him  the 
best  preaciier  or  writer  who  pleases  him 
most;  without  exa  Mining  first  his  own  par- 
ticular taste,  by  which  he  judgeth. 

It  is  natural,  indeed,  for  every  one  to  de- 
sire to  have  his  own  taste  pleased ;  but  it 
is  unreasonable  in  him  to  set  it  up  as  the 
best,  and  make  it  a  test  and  standard  to 
others.  But  much  more  unreasonable  to 
expect  that  he  who  speaks  in  public 
should  always  speak  to  his  taste;  which 
might  as  reasonably  be  expected  by  an- 
il 


•1,22  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

Other  of  a  different  one.  It  is  equally  im« 
possible  that  what  is  delivered  to  a  nmlti- 
tnde  of  hearers,  should  alike  suit  all  their 
taste,  as  that  a  single  dish,  though  prepar- 
ed with  ever  so  much  art  and  exactncbS, 
should  equally  please  a  great  variety  of 
appetites;  among  which  there  may  be 
some,  perhaps,  very  nice  and  sickly. 

It  is  the  preacher's  duty  to  adapt  his 
Subjects  to  the  taste  of  his  hearers,  as  far 
as  fidelity  and  conscience  will  admit;  be- 
cause it  is  well  known  from  reason  and  ex* 
perience,  as  well  as  from  the  advice  and 
practice  of  the  apostle  Paul,  (Rom.  xv.  2. 
1  Cor.  ix.  22.)  [4i]  that  this  is  the  best 
way  to  promote  their  edification.  But  if 
their  taste  be  totally  vitiated,  and  incline 
them  to  take  in  that  which  will  do  them 
more  harm  than  good,  and  to  relish  poison 
more  than  food,  the  most  charitable  thing 
the  preacher  can  do  in  that  case  is,  to 
endeavour  to  correct  so  vicious  an  appe- 
tite, which  loaths  that  which  is  most 
wholesome,  and  craves  pernicious  food ; 
this,  I  say,  it  is  his  duty  to  attempt  in  the 
most  gentle  and  prudent  manner  he  can, 
though  he  run  the  risk  of  having  his  judg-^ 
ment  or  orthodoxy  called  into  question  by 
them,  as  it  very  possibly  may ;  for  com- 
monly they  are  the  most  arbitrary  and  un- 


DOTH    CONSIST.  123 

merciful    jiuVcs    in     this    case,    who    arc 
least  of  all  qualified  for  that  office. 

There  is  not  perhaps  a  more  unaccount- 
ble  weakness  in  human  nature  tiian  this, 
that  with  regard  to  religious  matters,  our 
animosities  are  generally  greatest  where 
our  differences  are  least;  they  who  come 
pretty  near  to  our  standard,  but  stop  short 
there,  are  more  the  ohjects  of  our  disgust 
and  censures,  than  they  who  continue  nt 
the  greatest  distance  from  it.  And  in 
some  cases  it  requires  much  candour  and 
self-command  to  get  over  this  weakness. 
To  whatever  secret  spring  in  the  Iviiman 
mind  it  may  be  owing,  I  shall  not  stay  to 
inquire;  but  the  thing  itself  is  too  obvious 
not  to  be  to  taken  notice  of. 

Now  we  should  all  of  us  be  careful  to 
fmd  out  and  examine  our  proper  taste  of 
religious  things,  that  iC  it  be  a  false  one, 
we  nmy  rectify  it  it;  if  a  bad  one,  mend  it; 
if  a  right  and  good  one,  strengthen  and 
improve  it.  For  the  mind  is  capable  of  a 
false  gust,  as  well  as  the  palate;  and 
comes  by  it  the  same  way;  viz.  by  being 
long  used  to  unnatural  relishes,  which  by 
custom  become  grateful.  yVnd  having  found 
out  what  it  is,  and  examined  it  by  the  test 
of  scripture,  reason  and  conscience,  if  it 
ke  not  very  wrong,  let  us  indulge  it,  and 


124  WHEREIN    S'ELF-KNOWLEDSE 

read  those  books  that  are  most  suitable  to 
it,  which  for  that  reason  will  be  most  edi- 
fying. But  at  the  same  time  let  us  take 
care  of  two  things.  I.  Tliat  il  do  not 
bias  our  judgment,  and  draw  us  into  er- 
ror. 2.  That  it  do  not  cramp  our  charity, 
and  lead  us  to  censoriousness. 


CHAP.  XVII. 

Of  our  great  and  governing  Views  in  Life. 

Another  part  of  self-knowledge  is,  to 
know  what  are  the  great  ends  for  which 
we  live. 

We  must  consider  what  is  the  ultimate 
scope  we  drive  at;  the  general  maxims 
and  principles  we  live  by;  or  whether  we 
have  not  yet  determined  our  end,  and  are 
governed  by  no  fixed  principles;  or  by  such 
as  we  are  ashamed  to  own. 

The  first  and  leading  dictate  of  pru- 
dence is,  "that  a  man  propose  to  himself 
his  true  and  best  interest  for  his  end  ;  and 
the  next  is,  that  he  make  use  of  all  those 
means  and  opportunities  whereby  that  end 
is  to  be  obtained. — This  is  the  most  effec- 
tual way  that  1  know  of  to  secure  to  one's 


DOTH  CONSIST  12!) 

self  the  character  of  a  wise  man  here,  and 
the  reward  of  one  hereafter.  And  be- 
tween these  two  there  is  such  a  close  con- 
nexion, that  he  who  does  not  do  the  hitter, 
cannot  be  supposed  to  intend  the  former. 
He  that  is  not  careful  of  his  actions,  shall 
never  persuade  me  that  he  seriously  pro- 
poses to  himself  his  best  interest  as  his 
end :  for  if  he  did,  he  would  as  seriously 
apjdy  iiimself  to  the  other,  as  the  means." 

There  are  few  that  live  so  much  at  ran- 
dom as  not  to  have  some  main  end  in  eye; 
something  that  influences  their  conduct, 
and  is  the  great  object  of  their  pursuit  and 
hope.  A  man  cannot  live  without  some 
leading  views;  a  wise  man  will  always 
know  what  they  are,  whether  it  is  fit  he 
should  be  led  by  them  or  not;  whether 
they  be  such  as  his  understanding  and 
reason  approve,  or  only  such  as  fancy  and 
inclination  suggest,  lie  will  be  as  much 
concerned  to  act  with  reason,  as  to  tislk 
with  reason;  as  much  asimmed  of  a  sole- 
cism and  contradiction  in  his  character,  as 
in  his  conversation. 

Where  do  our  views  centre?  In  this 
world  we  are  in;  or  in  that  we  are  going 
to?  If  our  hopes  and  joys  centre  here,  it 
is  a  mortifying  thought,  that  we  are  every 
day  departing  from  our  happiness:  but  if 

11* 


126  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

they  are  fixed  above,  it  is  a  joy  to  think 
that  we  are  every  clay  drawing  nearer  to 
to  the  object  of  our  highest  wishes. 

Is  our  main  care  to  appear  great  in  the 
eye  of  man;  or  good  in  the  eye  of  Gojj.^ 
If  the  former,  we  expose  ourselves  to  the 
pain  of  a  perpetual  disappointment;  for  it 
is  much  if  the  envy  of  men  do  not  rob  us 
of  a  good  deal  of  our  just  praise,  or  if  our 
vanity  will  be  content  with  that  portion  of 
it  they  allow  us.  But  if  the  latter  be  our 
main  care,  if  our  chief  view  is  to  be  ap- 
proved of  God,  we  are  laying  up  a  fund  of 
the  most  lasting  and  solid  satisfactions: 
Not  to  say  that  this  is  the  truest  way  to 
appear  great  in  the  eyes  of  men,  and  to 
conciliate  the  esteem  of  all  those  whose 
praise  is  worth  our  wish. 

"Be  this  then,  O  my  soul,  thy  wise  and 
steady  pursuit;  let  this  circumscribe  and 
direct  thy  views;  be  this  a  law  to  thee, 
from  which  account  it  a  sin  to  depart, 
whatever  disrespect  or  contempt  it  may 
expose  thee  to  from  others;  [42]  be  this 
the  character  thou  resolvest  to  live  up  to, 
and  at  all  times  to  maintain,  both  in  pub- 
lic and  private ;  [43]  viz.  a  ;  friend  and  lov- 
er of  God;  in  whose  favour  thou  center- 
est  all  thy  present  and  future  hopes.  Car- 
ij  this  view  with   thee  through  life,   and 


»OTH  CONSIST.  127 

dare  not  in  any  instance  to  act  inconsist- 
ently witli  it." 


CHAP.  XVIII. 

How  to  Jcnow  the  true   State    of  our    Soiiis; 
and  whether  we  arc  ft  to  die. 

Lastly:  The  most  important  point  of 
self-knowledge,  after  all,  is,  to  know  the 
true  state  of  our  souls  toward  God;  and 
in  what  condition  we  are  to  die. 

These  two  tilings  are  inseparably  con- 
nected in  their  nature,  and  therefore  1  put 
tliem  together.  The  knowledge  of  the 
former  will  fletermine  the  latter,  and  is 
the  only  thing  that  ran  determine  it;  for 
no  man  can  tell  whether  he  is  fit  for  death, 
till  he  is  acquainted  with  the  true  state  of 
his  own  soul. 

This  now  is  a  matter  of  such  vast  mo- 
ment, that  it  is  amazing  any  considerate 
man,  or  any  one  who  thinks  what  it  is  to 
die,  can  be  satisfied,  so  long  as  it  remains 
an  uncertainty. — Let  us  trace  out  this  im- 
portant iK)jut  then  uiih  all  possible  pluin- 
ness;  and  sec  if  we  cannot  come  to  some 


-128  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

satisfaction  in  it  upon  tlie  most  solid  prin- 
ciples. 

In  order  to  know  then  whether  we  are 
fit  to  die,  we  must  first  know  what  it  is 
that  fits  us  for  death.^ — And  the  answer  to 
this  is  very  natural  and  easy;  viz.  that  on- 
ly fits  us  for  death,  that  fits  us  for  happi- 
ness after  death. 

Tills  is  certain. — But  the  question  re- 
turns: What  is  it  that  fits  us  for  happiness 
after  death.^ 

Now,  in  answer  to  this,  there  is  a  pre- 
vious question  necessary  to  be  determined  j 
viz.  What  that  happiners  is? 

It  is  not  a  fool's  paradise,  or  a  Turkish 
dream  of  sensitive  gratification.  It  must 
be  a  happiness  suited  to  the  nature  of  the 
soul,  and  what  it  is  capable  of  enjoying  in 
a  state  of  separation  from  the  body.  And 
what  can  that  be,  but  the  enjoyment  of 
God,  the  best  of  beings,  and  the  author  of 
our*s? 

The  question  then  comes  to  this:  What 
is  that  which  fits  us  for  the  enjoyment  of 
God,  in  the  future  state  of  separate  spirits? 

And  methinks  we  may  bring  this  mat- 
ter to  a  very  sure  and  short  issue,  by  say- 
ing, it  is  that  which  makes  us  like  to  him 
now. — This  only  is  our  proper  qualification 
for  the  enjoynieni  of  him  after  death,  and 


BOTH    CONSIST.  129 

therefore  our  only  proper  preparation  for 
death.  For  how  can  they,  who  are  unlike 
to  God  here,  expect  to  enjoy  him  hereaf- 
ter? And  if  they  have  nojustgronnd  to  hope 
that  they  shall  enjo>  God  in  the  other 
world,  how  are  they  fit  to  die? 

So  that  the  great  question,  Am  I  fit  to 
die?  resolves  itself  into  this.  Am  I  like  to 
God?  For  it  is  this  only  that  fits  me  for 
heaven;  and  that  x^hich  fits  me  for  hea- 
ven, is  the  only  thing  that  fits  me  for 
death. 

Let  this  point  then  be  well  searched  in- 
to, and  examined  very  deliberately  and 
imparlially. 

Most  certain  it  is,  that  God  can  take  no 
real  complacency  in  any  but  those  that 
are  like  him;  and  it  is  as  certain,  that 
none  but  those  that  are  like  him  can  take 
pleasure  in  him. — But  God  is  a  most  pure 
and  holy  being;  a  being  of  infinite  love, 
mercy  and  patience ;  whose  righteousness 
is  invariable,  whose  veracity  inviolable, 
and  whose  wisdom  unerring.  These  are 
the  moral  attributes  of  the  Divine  Beins:, 
in  which  he  requires  us  to  imitate  him;  the 
exjiress  lineanuMits  of  the  Divine  Nature, 
in  which  all  good  men  bear  a  resemblance 
to  him;  and  for  the  sake  of  which  only 
they   are   the   objects  of   his  delight;    for 


130  WHEREIN  SELF-KNOWLEDGE  DOTH  CONSIST. 

God  can  love  none  but  those  that  bear  this 
impress  of  his  own  image  on  their  souls. 
— Do  we  find  then  these  visible  traces  of 
the  divine  image  here?  Can  we  make 
out  our  likeness  to  him  in  his  holiness, 
goodness,  mercy,  righteousness,  truth,  and 
wisdom?  If  so,  it  is  certain  we  are  capa- 
ble of  enjoying  him,  and  are  the  proper 
objects  of  his  love. — By  this  we  know  we 
are  fit  to  die;  because  by  this  we  know  we 
are  fit  for  happiness  after  death. 

Thus  then,  if  we  are  faithful  to  our  con- 
sciences, and  impartial  in  the  examination 
of  our  lives  and  tempers,  we  may  soon 
come  to  a  right  determination  of  this  im- 
portant question:  What  is  the  true  state 
of  our  souls  towards  God?  and  in  what 
condition  are  we  to  die?  [44]  Which,  as 
it  is  the  most  important,  so  it  is  the  last 
instance  of  self-knowledge  I  shall  men- 
tion; and  with  it  close  the  first  part  of 
this  subject. 


Showmg  the  great  Excellency  and  Advantage 
of  thin  Kind  of  Science. 

Having  in  the  former  part  of  this  sub- 
ject laid  open  some  of  the  main  branches  of 
self-knowled.£!;e,  or  pointed  out  the  princi- 
pal thine;s  which  a  man  OM^^iht  to  be  ac- 
quainted with,  relating'  to  himself;  I  am 
now,  readers,  to  hiy  before  you  the  excel- 
lency and  usefulness  of  this  kind  of  knowl- 
edge, as  an  inducement  to  labour  after  it, 
by  a  detail  of  the  several  great  advanta- 
ges attending  it,  which  shall  be  recounted 
in  the  following  chapters. 


CHAP.  L 

Self  Knowledge   the   Spring  of  SclfPosseS' 

sion. 

One  great  advantage  of  self-knowledge 
is,  that  it  gives  a  man  the  truest  and  most 
constant  self-possession. 


132  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

A  man  that  is  endowed  with  this  excel- 
lent knowledge  is  calm  and  easy. 

].  Under  affronts  and  defamation.  For 
he  thinks  thus:  "1  am  sure  I  know  myself 
better  than  any  man  can  pretend  to  know 
me.  This  calumniator  hath  indeed,  at 
this  time  missed  his  mark,  and  shot  his  ar- 
rows at  random ;  and  it  is  my  comfort, 
that  my  conscience  acquits  me  of  his  an- 
gry imputation.  However,  there  are  worse 
crimes  which  he  might  more  justly  accuse 
me  of;  which,  though  hid  from  him,  are 
known  to  myself.  Let  me  set  about  re- 
forming them;  lest,  if  they  come  to  his 
notice,  he  shoukl  attack  me  in  a  more  de- 
fenceless part,  find  something  upon  which 
to  fasten  his  obloquy,  and  fix  a  lasting  re- 
proach upon  my  character.     [45j 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  and  good 
sense  in  that  common  saying  and  doctrine 
of  the  Stoics,  though  they  might  carry  it 
too  far,  that  it  is  not  things  but  thoughts 
that  disturb  and  hurt  us.  [46]  Now,  as  self- 
acquaintance  teaches  a  man  the  right  gov- 
ernment of  the  thoughts,  (as  is  shown  a- 
bove,  Part  I.  Chap.  XIV,)  it  will  help  him 
to  expel  all  anxious,  tormenting  and  fruit- 
less thoughts,  and  retain  the  most  quieting 
and  useful  ones;  and  so  keep  all  easy 
within.  Let  a  man  but  try  the  experiment, 


•P    SELF-KNOWI.P.B«E.  A^ 

and  he  will  find,  that  a  litfle  resolution 
will  make  the  greatest  part  of  the  difiicul- 
ty  vanish. 

2.  Self-knowledge  will  be  a  good  bal- 
last to  the  mind  under  any  accidental  hur- 
ry or  disorder  of  the  passions.  It  curbs 
their  impetuosity;  puts  the  reins  into  the 
hands  of  reason ;  quells  the  rising  storm, 
ere  it  nvikes  shipwreck  of  the  conscience; 
and  teaches  a  man  to  leave  off  contention 
before  it  be  meddled  with,  (Prov.  xvii.  14.) 
it  being  much  safer  to  keep  the  lion  chain- 
ed than  to  encounter  it  in  its  full  strength 
and  fury.  And  tluis  will  a  wise  man,  for 
his  own  peace,  deal  with  the  passions  of 
others,  as  well  as  his  own. 

Self-knowledge,  as  it  acquaints  a  man 
with  his  weakness  and  worst  qualities,  will 
be  his  guard  against  them,  and  a  happy 
counterbalance  to  the  faults  and  excesses 
of  his  natural  temper. 

3.  It  will  keep  the  mind  sedate  and 
calm  under  the  suprise  of  bad  news  or 
afflicting  providences. 

"For,  am  I  not  a  creature  of  God.^  and 
mv  life  and  comforts,  arc  they  not  wholly 
at  his  disposal,  from  whom  I  have  receiv- 
ed thrm;  and  by  whose  favour  I  have  so 
long  enjoyed  them;  and  by  whose  mercy 
and  goodness  I  have  still  so  many  left.'? 

12 


134  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAfiE 

"A  heathen  can  teach  me,  under  such 
losses  of  friends,  or  estate,  or  any  comfort, 
to  direct  my  eyes  to  the  hand  of  Gol>,  by 
whom  it  was  lent  me,  and  is  now  recalled; 
that  I  ought  not  to  say,  it  is  lost,  but  re- 
stored. And  though  I  be  injuriously  de- 
prived of  it,  still  the  hand  of  God  is  to 
be  acknowledged;  for  what  is  it  to  me,  by 
what  means,  he  that  gave  me  that  bles- 
sing, takes  it  from  me  again.'' 

He  that  rightly  knows  himself,  will 
live  every  day  dependent  on  the  divine 
Author  of  his  mercies,  for  the  continuance 
and  enjoyment  of  them.  And  will  learn 
from  a  higher  authority  than  that  of  a 
heathen  moralist,  that  he  hath  nothing  he 
can  properly  call  his  own,  or  ought  to  de- 
pend upon  as  such.  That  he  is  but  a 
steward  employed  to  dispense  the  good 
things  he  possesses,  according  to  the  di- 
rection of  his  Lord,  at  whose  pleasure  he 
holds  them;  and  to  whom  he  should  be 
ready  at  any  time  cheerfully  to  resign 
them.    (Luke  xvi.  1.) 

4.  Self-knowledge  will  help  a  man  to 
preserve  an  equanimity  and  self-possession 
under  all  the  various  scenes  of  adversity 
and  prosp-erity. 

Both  have  their  temptations;  to  some 
the   temptations    of    prosperity     are    the 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  135 

greatest;  to  others,  those  of  adversity. 
Self-knowledge  shows  a  man  which  of 
these  are  the  greatest  to  him;  and,  at  the 
apprehension  of  them,  teaches  him  to  arm 
himself  accordingly,  that  ifothing  may  de- 
prive him  of  his  constancy  and  self-pos- 
seesion,  or  lead  to  him  act  unbecoming 
the  man  or  the  Christian. 

We  commonly  say,  no  one  knows  wh<'it 
he  can  bear  till  he  is  tried.  And  many 
persons  verify  the  observation,  by  bearing 
evils  mnch  better  than  they  feaml.  Nay, 
tiie  apprehension  of  an  aioproaciiing  evil  , 
often  gives  a  man  a  greater  pain  tirtn  t!je 
evil  itself.  This  is  owing  to  inexperience 
and  self-ignorance. 

A  man  that  knows  iiimself,  his  own 
strength  and  weakness,  is  not  so  subject  as 
others  to  the  melancholy  presages  of  the 
imagination;  and  whenever  they  intrude, 
he  m  ikes  no  other  use  of  them  than  to  take 
the  warning,  collect  himself,  and  prepare  for 
the  coming  evil;  leaving  the  degree,  dura- 
tion, and  the  issue  of  it  with  him,  who  is 
the  sovereign  Disposer  of  all  events,  in  a 
quiet  dependence  on  his  power,  wisdom 
and  goodness. 

Such  self-possession  is  one  groat  effect 
and  advantage  of  self-knowledge. 


136  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 


CHAP.  ir. 

Sc/f'K?ioivlcdge  leads  to   a  wise  and  steady 

Conduct. 

As  self-knovv ledge  will  keep  a  man  calm 
and  equal  in  his  temper,  so  it  will  make 
him  wise  and  cautions  in  his  conduct. 

A  precipitant  and  rash  conduct  is  ever 
the  effect  of  a  confused  and  irregular 
hurry  of  thought.  So  that  when,  by  the 
infl'ience  of  self-knowledge,  the  thoughts 
become  cool,  sedate  and  rational,  the  con- 
duct will  be  so  loo.  It  will  give  a  man 
that  even,  steady,  and  uniform  behaviour 
in  the  management  of  his  affairs,  that  is 
so  necessary  for  the  dispatch  of  business; 
and  prevent  many  disappointments  and 
troubles  which  arise  from  the  unsuccess- 
ful execution  of  immature  of  ill-judged 
projects. 

In  short,  most,  of  the  troubles  which 
men  meet  with  in  the  world  may  be  tra- 
ced up  to  t.iis  source,  and  resolved  into 
self-ignorance.  We  may  complain  of  Prov- 
idence, and  complain  of  men ;  but  the 
fault,  if  we  examine  it,  will  commonly  be 
found  to   be   our  own.     Our  imprudence. 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  137 

y 
which   arises    from    self-ignorance,     either 
brings  our   troubles   upon  us,  or   increaiyes 
them.     Want  of  temper  and   conduct  will 
make  any  affliction  double. 

What  a  long  train  of  difficulties  ^a 
sometimes  proceed  from  one  vt^rong  step  in 
our  conduct,  into  which  self-ignorance  ov 
inconsideration  betrayed  us?  And  every  e- 
vil  that  befals  us  in  consequence  of  that, 
we  are  to  charge  upon  ourselves. 


CHAP.  III. 

Humility  the  Effect  of  Self-Knowledge. 

True  self-knowledge  always  produces 
humility. 

Pride  is  ever  the  oftspring  of  self-ignor- 
ance. The  reason  men  are  vain  and  self- 
sufficient  is,  because  they  do  not  know 
their  own  failings;  and  the  reason  they 
are  no  better  acquainted  with  them  is,  be- 
cause they  hate  self-inspection.  Let  a  man 
but  turn  his  eyes  within,  scrutinize  himself, 
and  study  his  own  heart,  and  he  will  soon 
see  enough  to  make  l)im  humble.  Behold, 
I  am  vile,  (Job  xi.  4.)  is  the  language  only 
of  self-knowledge.   [47] 

12* 


138  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

Whence  is  it  that  young  people  are  gen- 
erally so  vain,  self-sufficient  and  assured, 
but  because  they  have  taken  no  time  nor 
pains  to  cultivate  a  self-acquaintance? 
and  why  does  pride  and  stiffness  appear 
so  often  in  advanced  age,  but  because 
men  grow  old  in  self-ignorance?  A  mod- 
erate degree  of  self-knowledge  would  cure 
an  inordinate  degree  of  self-complacency. 

Humility  is  not  more  necessary  to  sal- 
vation than  self-knowledge  is  to  hnmilitv, 
[49] 

It  would    effectually    prevent    that    bad 
disposition  which  is  too  apt  to  steal  upon, 
and  infect  some  of  the  best  human  minds, 
(especially  those  who  aim  at  singular  and 
exalted  degrees  of  piety)  viz.  a   religious 
vanity  or  spiritual  pride;  which,  without  a 
good   deal   of  self-knowledge  and    self-at- 
tention,  will  gradually   insinuate  into   the 
heart,  taint  the  mind,  and  sophisticate  our 
virtues,  before  we  are  aware;  and,  in  pro- 
portion to  its  prevalence,  make  the  Chris- 
tian temper  degenerate  into  the  Pharisai- 
cal. 

"Might  I  be  allowed  to  choose  my  own 
lot,  [  should  think  it  much  more  eligible  to 
want  my  spiritual  comforts,  than  to  a- 
l|ouad  in  these  at  the  expense  of  my  hii- 


©F    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  139 

mility.  No;  let  a  penitent,  a  contrite 
spirit  be  always  my  portion;  and  may  I 
ever  so-be  the  favourite  of  Heaven,  as  ne- 
ver to  forget  that  lam  tlie  chief  of  sinners. 
Knowledge  in  the  sublime  and  glorious 
mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  ravish- 
ing comteinphitions  of  God  and  a  future 
state,  are  most  <lesirable  advantages;  but 
still  I  prefer  charitv  which  edifieth,  before 
the  highest  intellectual  perfections  of  that 
knowledge  which  puffeth  up. — (1  Cor.  viii. 
1.)  Those  spiritual  advantages  are  cer- 
tainly best  for  us,  which  increase  our  mod- 
esty anil  awaken  our  caution,  and  dispose 
us  to  s'ispect  and  deny  ourselves. — The 
highest  in  God's  esteem,  are  meanest  in 
their  owil  And  their  excellency  consists 
in  the  meekness  and  truth,  not  in  the  pomp 
and  ostentation  of  piety,  which  affects  to 
be  seen  and  admired  of  men."  [.50J 


CHAP.  IV. 

Charity  another  Effect  of  Sc/f-Know/erh'-c. 

Si-:LF-K\owr.Ei>GE     greatly     promotes    a 
spirit  of  meekness  and  charity. 

The  more  a  man  is  acquainted  with  his 


149  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 


( 


own  failings,  the  more  he  is  disposed  t© 
make  allowances  for  those  of  others.  The 
knowledge  he  hath  of  himself,  will  in- 
cline him  to  be  as  severe  in  his  animad- 
versions on  his  own  conduct,  as  he  is  on 
that  of  others;  and  as  candid  to  their 
faults  as  be  is  to  his  own.  [51] 

There  is  an  uncommon  beauty,  force, 
and  propriety  in  that  caution  which  our 
Saviour  gives  us,  And  why  beholdest  thou 
the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but 
considerest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine 
own  eye?  Or  how  wilt  thou  say  to  thy 
brother,  let  me  pull  out  the  mote  out  of 
thine  eye,  and  behold  a  beam  is  in  thine 
own  eye?  Thou  hypocrite,  first  cast  the 
beam  out  of  thine  own  eye,  and  then  shalt 
thou  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the  mote  oi!t 
of  thy  brother's  eye.  (Matt.  vii.  3 — 5.)  In 
which  words  these  four  things  are  plainly 
intimated;  1.  That  some  are  much  more 
quick-sighted  to  discern  the  faults  and 
blemishes  of  others,  than  their  own;  can 
spy  a  mote  in  another's  eye,  sooner  than  a 
beam  in  their  o^wn.  2  That  they  are  of- 
ten the  most  forward  to  correct  and  cure 
the  foibles  of  others,  who  are  most  unqual- 
ified for  that  office.  The  beam  in  their 
own  eye  makes  them  altogether  unfit  to 
pull  out  the  mote  from  their  brother's.     A 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  141 

iflan  half  blind  himself  should  never  set 
up  for  an  occulist.  3.  That  they  who  are 
inclined  to  deal  in  censure  should  always 
begin  at  home.  4.  Great  censoriousness 
is  great  hypocrisy.  Thou  hypocrite,  &;c. 
all  this  is  nothing  but  the  effect  of  woful 
self-ignorance. 

This  common  failing  of  the  human  na- 
ture, the  heathens  were  very  sensible  of; 
[52]  and  imaged  it  in  the  following 
manner:  Every  man,  sav  they,  carries  a 
wallet  or  two  bags  with  him  ;  the  one  hang- 
ing before  him,  and  the  other  behind  him; 
into  that  before,  he  puts  the  faults  of  oth- 
ers; into  that  behind,  his  own;  by  which 
means  he  never  sees  his  own  failings 
whilst  he  lia:  those  of  others  always  be- 
fore his  eyes. 

But  self-knowledge  now  helps  us  to  turn 
this  wallet;  and  place  that  which  hath 
our  own  faults  before  our  eyes,  and  that 
which  hath  in  it  those  of  others  behind 
our  back.  A  very  necessary  regulation 
this,  if  we  would  behold  our  own  faults  in 
the  same  light  in  which  they  do.  For  we 
must  not  expect  that  others  will  be  as 
blind  to  our  foibles  as  we  ourselves  are. 
They  will  carry  them  before  their  eyes, 
whether  we  do  or  not.  And  to  imagine 
that  the   world   takes  no   notice  of  them, 


142  THE    GREAT    ADYANTAGE 

because  we  do  not,  is  just  as  wise  as  to 
fancy  that  others  do  not  see  us,  because 
we  shut  our  eyes. 


CHAP.  V. 

Moderation  the  Effect  of  Self- Knowledge. 

Another  genuine  offspring  of  self-knowl- 
edge is  moderation. 

This  indeed  can  hardly  be  conceived  to 
be  separate  from  that  of  meekness  and 
charity  before-mentioned ;  but  I  choose  to 
give  it  a  distinct  mention,  because  I  con- 
sider it  under  a  different  view  and  opera- 
tion, viz.  as  that  which  guards  and  influences 
our  spirits  in  all  matters  of  debate  and 
controversy. 

Moderation  is  a  great  and  important 
Christian  virtue,  very  different  from  that 
bad  quality  of  the  mind  under  which  it  is 
often  misrepresented  and  disguised,  viz. 
lukewarmness  and  indifference  about  the 
truth.  Tiie  former  is  very  consistent  with 
a  regular  and  well-corrected  zeal,  the  lat- 
ter consists  in  a  total  want  of  it;  the  for- 
mer is  sensible  of,  and  endeavours  with 
peace  and  prudence  to  maintain  the  digni- 


OP    SELF-KNOWLF.DGE-  I4i5 

ty  and  importance  of  divine  doctrines,  the 
latter  hatli  no  manner  of  concern  about 
them;  the  one  feels  the  secret  influences 
of  them,  the  other  is  quite  a  stranger  to 
their  power  and  effiacy;  the  one  laments 
in  secret  the  sad  decay  of  vitial  religion, 
the  other  is  an  instance  of  it.  In  short, 
the  one  proceeds  from  true  knowledge,  the 
other  from  great  ignorance;  the  one  is  a 
good  mark  of  sincerity,  and  the  other  a 
certain  sign  of  hypocrisy. — And  to  cnn- 
fonud  two  things  together,  which  are  so 
essentially  d lift  rent,  can  he  the  effect  of 
nothing  but  great  ignorance,  inconsidera- 
tion,  or  an  overheated,  injudicious  zeal. 

A  self-knowing  man  can  easily  distin- 
guish between  these  two.  And  the  knowl- 
edge which  he  has  of  human  nature  in 
general,  from  a  thorough  contemplation  of 
his  own  in  particular,  shows  him  the  ne- 
cessity of  preserving  a  medium  (as  in  ev- 
ry  thing  else  so  especially)  between  the 
two  extremes  of  a  bigoted  zeal  on  the  one 
hand,  and  indolent  lukewarmness  on  the 
other.  As  he  will  not  look  upon  every  thing 
to  be  worth  contending  for,  so  he  will  look 
upon  nothing  worth  losing  his  temper  for  in 
the  contention;  because,  though  thetruthbe 
of  ever  so  great  importance,  nothing  can 
do  a  greater  disservice   to    it,   or  make   a 


144  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

man  more  incapable  of  defending  it,  thau 
intemperate  heat  and  passions;  whereby 
he  injures  and  betrays  the  cause  he  is  o- 
ver-anxious  to  maintain.  The  wrath  of 
man  worketh  not  the  righteousness  of  God. 
(James  i.  20.) 

Self-knowledge  heals  our  animosities, 
and  greatly  cools  our  debates  about  mat- 
ters of  dark  and  doubtful  Speculation. 
One  who  knows  himself,  sets  too  great  a 
value  upon  his  time  and  temper,  to  plunge 
rashly  into  those  vain  and  fruitless  contro- 
versies, in  which  one  of  them  is  sure  to  be 
lost,  and  the  other  in  great  danger  of  be- 
ing so;  especially  when  a  man  of  bad 
temper  and  bad  principles  is  the  oppo- 
nent ;  who  aims  rather  to  silence  his  adver- 
sary with  overbearing  confidence,  dark, 
unmeaning  language,  authoritative  airs, 
and  hard  words,  than  convince  him  with 
solid  argument;  and  who  plainly  contends 
not  for  truth  l>ut  victory.  Little  good  can 
be  done  to  the  best  cause  in  such  a  cir- 
cumstance. And  a  wise  and  moderate 
man,  who  knows  human  nature,  and  knows 
himself,  will  rather  give  his  antagonist  the 
pleasure  of  an  imaginary  triumph,  than 
engage  in  so  unequal  a  combat. 

An  eagerness  and  zeal  for  dispute,  on 
every  subject,  and  with  every  one,  shows 


Ot    SELF-KNOWLEDGt.  145 

great  self-sufficiency,  that  never-failing  sign 
of  great  self-ignorance. 

And  true  moderation,  which  creates  an 
indifference  to  little  things,  and  a  wise 
and  well  proportioned  zeal  for  things  of 
importance,  can  proceed  from  nothing  but 
true  knowledge,  which  has  its  foundation 
in  self-acquaintance. 


CHAP.  VL 

Self-Knowledge  improves  the  Judgment. 

Another  great  advantage  of  being  well 
acquainted  with  ourselves  is,  that  it  helps 
us  to  form  a  better  judgment  of  other 
things. 

Self-knowledge  indeed  does  not  enlarge 
or  increase  our  natural  capacities,  but  it 
guides  and  regulates  them;  leads  us  to 
the  right  use  and  application  of  them; 
and  removes  a  great  many  things  which 
obstruct  their  due  exercise,  as  pride,  pre- 
judice, passion,  kc.  which  oftentimes  mis- 
erably prevert  the  rational  powers. 

He  tliat  hath  taken  a  just  measure  of 
himself  is  thereby  better  able  to  judge  of 
other  things. 

13 


146  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

1.  He  knows  how  to  judge  of  men  and 
laiman  nature  better. — For  human  nature, 
setting  aside  the  difference  of  natural  ge- 
nius, and  the  improvements  of  education 
and  religion,  is  pretty  much  the  same  in 
all.  There  are  the  same  passions  and 
appetites,  the  same  natural  infirmities  and 
inclinations,  in  all  mankind;  though  some 
are  more  predominant,  and  distinguishable 
in  some,  than  they  are  in  others.  So  that 
if  a  man  be  but  well  acquainted  with  his 
own,  this,  together  with  a  very  little  ob- 
servation on  human  lifc;  will  soon  discov- 
er to  him  those  of  other  men;  and  show 
him  very  impartially  their  particular  tail- 
ings and  excellencies,  and  help  him  to 
form  a  much  truer  sentiment  of  them,  than 
if  he  were  to  judge  only  by  their  exterior, 
the  appearance  they  make  in  the  eye  of 
the  world,  or  the  character  given  of  them 
by  others;  both  which  are  often  very  fal- 
lacious. 

2.  Self-know'ledge  will  teach  ns  to  judge 
rightly  of  facts  as  well  as  men.  It  will 
exhibit  things  lo  the  mind  in  a  proper 
light,  and  true  colours,  without  those  false 
glosses  and  appearances  which  fancy 
throws-upon  them,  or  in  which  the  imagina- 
tion often  paints  them.  It  will  teach  us 
to  judge  not   with    the    imagination,  but 


OP    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  147 

with  tlie  understanding;  and  will  set  a 
guard  ni)on  the  former,  which  so  often  rep- 
resents things  in  wrong  views,  and  gives 
the  mind  false  impressions.  See  part  1. 
Chap.  IV. 

3.  It  helps  to  estimate  the  true  value  of 
all   worldly   good  things.     It   rectifies   our 
notions   of    them,   and   lessens    that   enor- 
mous esteem  we  are   apt  to  have  for  them. 
For  when  a  man   knows   liimself,  and   his 
true  interest,  he  will   see   how   far,  and   in 
what  degree,  these   things   are   suitable  to 
him,  and  subservient  to  his  good;  and  how 
far  they  are  unsuitable,  ensnaring  and  per- 
nicious.    This,  and  not  the  common  opin- 
ion of  the  world,    will    be  his  rule  of  judg- 
ment  concerning   them.     By   this   he    will 
see   quite   through   them:    see   what    they 
really  are  at   bottom;  and  how  far  a  wise 
man  ought   to   desire    them.     The    reason 
why  men  value  them  so  extravagantly  is,  be- 
cause  they   take  but  a  superficial  view  of 
them,  and  only  look  upon  their  outsides, 
where  they   are   most  showy  and  inviting. 
W(Me  they  to    look  within  them,   consider 
their  intrinsic  worth,  their  ordinary  effects, 
their    tendency,  and  their  end,  they  w-)nld 
not  be  so  apt  to  overvalue  them.     And  a 
man  that  has  learned  to  see  through  him- 
self, can  easily  see  through  these,     [r/.i.j 


148  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 


CHAP.  VII. 

Self-KnowUd^e  directs  to  the  proper  Exer-^ 
cise  of  Self-Denial. 

A  MAN  that  knows  himself  best,  knows 
how,  and  wherein,  he  ought  to  deny  him- 
self. 

The  great  duty  of  self-denial,  which  our 
Saviour  so    expressly    requires  of  his  fol- 
lowers, plain  and   necessary  as   it   is,  has 
been    much    mistaken    and    abused;    and 
that  not  only  by  the  church  of  Rome,  in 
tlieir    doctrines  of  penance,  fasts  and  pil- 
grimages, but  by  some    Protestant  Chris- 
tians in  the  instances   of   voluntary   absti- 
nence     and     unnecessary      austerities. — • 
Vvhence  they  are   sometimes  apt  to  be  too 
censorious  against  those  who  indulge  them- 
selves in  the  use  of  those  indifferent  things, 
which  they  make  it  a  point  of  conscience 
to  abstain    from.     Whereas,    would    they 
confine  their  exercise   of  self-denial  to  the 
plain   and   important   points   of   Christian 
practice,  devoutly  performing  the  necessa- 
ary  duties   they  are   most  averse   to,  and 
resolutely  avoiding  the    known    sins  they 
are  most  inclined   to,  under   the  direction 
of  scripture,  they  would  soon  become  more 


OP    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  149 

solif!,  jiiHicioiis  and  examplary  Christians; 
and  did  tliey  know  themselves,  they  would 
easily  see  that  herein  there  is  occasion  and 
scope  enough  for  self-denial;  and  that  to 
a  de'j^ree  of  greater  severity  and  difficulty 
than  there  is  in  those  little  corporeal  ab- 
stinences and  mortifications  they  enjoin 
themselves. 

1.  Self-knowledge  will  direct  us  to  the 
necessary  exercise  of  self-denial,  with  re- 
gard to  the  duties  our  tempers  are  most 
averse  to. 

There  is  no  one,  but  at  sometimes,  finds 
a  great  backwardness  and  indisposition  to 
some  duties  which  he  knows  to  be  season- 
able and  necessary.  This  then  is  a  prop- 
er occasion  for  self-discipline.  For  to  in- 
dulge this  indisposition  is  very  dangerous, 
and  leads  to  an  habitual  neglect  of  known 
duty ;  and  to  resist  and  oppose  it,  and  to 
prepare  for  a  diligent  and  faithful  discharge 
of  the  duty,  notwithstanding  the  many 
pleas  and  excuses  that  a  carnal  disposi- 
tion may  urge  for  the  neglect  of  it,  this 
requires  no  small  pains  and  self-denial ;  and 
yet  it  is  very  necessary  to  the  peace  of 
conscience. 

And  for  our  encouragement  to  this  piece 
of  self-denial,  we  need  only  remember 
that  the  difficulty  of  the  duty,  and  our  ua- 

13* 


150  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

fitness  for  it,  will,   upon  the  trial,  be  founrl 
to  be  much  less  than  we  apprehend.     And 
the   pleasure  of  reflecting,   that  we    have 
discharged  our   consciences,   and   given   a 
fresh   testimony   of    our   uprightness,    will 
more  than  compensate  the  pains  and  diffi- 
culty we  found  therein.     And   the   oftener 
the  criminal  propensions  to  the  wilful  neg- 
lect of  duty   are   opposed   and    conquered, 
the  seldomer  will  they  return,  or  the  weak- 
er will  they  grow — till   at   last,   by   divine 
grace,  they  will  be  wholly  overcome;  and 
in  the   room  of  them  will  succeed  an   hab- 
itual readiness  to  every  good  work,  (Titus 
iii.  1.)  and  a  very  sensible  delight  therein: 
a  much  happier  effect  than  can  be  expect- 
ed from  the  severest  exercise  of  self-deni- 
al, in  the  instances  before  mentioned. 

2.  A  man  that  knows  himself  will  see 
an  equal  necessity  for  self-denial,  in  order 
to  check  his  inclinations  to  sinful  actions; 
to  subdue  the  rebel  within;  to  arrest  the 
solicitations  of  sense  and  appetite;  to  sum- 
mon all  his  wisdom  to  avoid  the  occasions 
and  temptations  to  sin,  and  all  his  strength 
to  oppose  it. 

All  this  (especially  if  it  be  a  favour- 
ite constitutional  inirpjity)  will  cost  a  man 
pains  and  mortification  enough,  for  in- 
stance, the  subduing  a  violent  passion,  or 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  1/31 

tamin;r  n  sensual  inclination,  or  forgiving 
an  apparent  injury  anti  ai'front.  [t  is  evi- 
dent, sucii  a  self-conquest  can  never  be  at- 
tained without  much  self-knowledge  and 
self-denial. 

And  that  self-denial  that  is  exercised 
this  way,  as  it  will  be  a  better  evidence  of 
oin  sincerity,  so  it  will  be  more  helpful 
and  ornamental  to  the  interests  of  reli- 
gion, than  the  greatest  zeal  in  those  par- 
ticular fluiies  which  are  more  suitable  to 
our  natural  tem|)ers,  or  thnn  the  greatest 
austerities  in  some  i)articular  instances  of 
mortilication,  which  are  not  vet  so  neces- 
sary, and  perhaps  not  so  difficult  or  disa- 
greeable to  us  as   this. 

To  what  amazing  heights  of  piety  may 
some  be  tau;a;ht  to  mount,  (raised  on  the 
wings  of  (laming  zeal,  and  distinijuished 
by  uncommon  preciseness  and  severity  a- 
bout  little  things)  who  all  the  while,  per- 
liaps,  cannot  .rio'  ern  one  passion,  and  ap- 
P'jar  yet  ignorant  of,  and  slaves  to  their 
darling  iniquity:  through  an  ie;norance  of 
themselves,  they  misappU  th<^ir  zeal,  and 
misplace  their  stdf-flenial ;  and  by  that 
means  blemish  their  characters  w  ith  a  vis- 
ble  inconsistency. 


152  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 


CHAP.  VIII. 

Self-Knowledge  promotes  our  Usefulness  iw 

the  World. 

The  more  we  know  of  ourselves,  the 
more  useful  we  are  like  to  be,  in  those  sta- 
tions of  life  in  which  Providence  hath  fix- 
ed us. 

When  we  know  our  proper  talents  and 
capacities,  we  know  in  wliat  manner  we 
are  capal)]e  of  being  useful;  and  the  con- 
sideration of  our  characters  and  relations 
in  life,  will  direct  us  to  the  proper  applica- 
tion of  those  talents;  show  us  to  what 
ends  they  were  given  us,  and  to  what  pur- 
poses they  ought  to  be  improved. 

"rvlany  of  those  who  set  up  for  wits, and 
pretend  to  a  more  than  ordinary  sagacity 
and  delicacy  of  sense,  do,  notwithstanding, 
spend  their  time  unaccountably;  and  live 
away  whole  days,  weaks,  and  sometinies 
months  together,  to  as  little  purpose, 
though  it  may  not  be  so  innocently,  as  if 
they  had  been  asleep  all  the  while.  But 
if  their  parts  be  so  good  as  they  would 
have  others  believe,  sure  they  are  worth 
impiovingj    if  not,  they  have    the    more 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  153 

jneerl  of  it.  Greatness  of  parts  is  so  far 
from  being  a  discharge  from  industry,  that 
I  find  men  of  the  most  exquisite  sense  in 
all  ages  were  always  most  precious  of 
their  time.  And  therefore  I  very  much 
suspect  the  excellency  of  those  men's 
parts,  who  are  dissolute  and  careless  mis- 
penders  of  it." 

It  is  a  sad  thini^  to  observe,  how  miser- 
ably some  men  debase  and  prostitute  tlirir 
capacities.  These  gifts  and  indulgencies 
of  nature,  by  which  they  outshine  many 
others,  and  by  which  they  are  capable  of 
doing  real  service  to  the  cause  of  virtue 
and  religion,  and  of  being  eminently  use- 
ful to  mankind,  they  either  neglect,  or 
shamefully  abuse,  to  tlie  dishonour  of  God, 
and  the  prejudice  of  their  fellow  creatures, 
by  encouraging  and  embolding  them  in  the 
ways  of  vice  and  vanity.  For  the  false 
glare  of  a  profane  wit  will  sometimes 
make  such  strong  impression  on  a  weak, 
unsettled  mind,  as  to  overbear  the  prin- 
ciples of  reason  and  wisdom,  and  give  it 
too  favourable  sentiments  of  what  it  before 
abhorred.  Whereas  the  same  force  and 
sprightliness  of  genius  could  have  been 
very  happily  and  usefully  employed  in 
putting  sin  out  of  countenance,  and  in   ral- 


154  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

lying  the  follies  and  exposing  the  inconsist- 
encies of  a  vicious  and  profligate  character. 

The  more  talents  and  abilities  men  are 
blessed  with,  the  more  pains  they  ought 
to  take. — This  is  Chrysostom's  observa- 
tion. And  the  reason  is  obvious;  because 
they  have  more  to  answer  for  than  other 
men;  which  I  take  to  be  a  better  reason 
than  what  is  assigned  by  this  father,  viz. 
because  they  have  more  to  lose. 

When  a  man  once  knows  where  his 
strength  lies,  wherein  he  excels,  or  is  ca- 
pable of  excelling,  how  far  his  influence 
extends,  and  in  what  station  of  life  Provi- 
dence hath  fixed  him,  and  the  duties  of 
that  station;  he  then  knows  what  talents 
he  ought  to  cultivate,  in  what  manner  and 
to  what  objects  they  are  to  be  chiefly  di- 
rected and  applied,  in  order  to  shine  in 
that  station,  and  be  useful  in  it.  This  will 
keep  him  even  and  steady  in  his  pursuits 
and  views,  consistent  with  hi  u self,  uni- 
form in  his  conduct,  and  useful  to  man- 
kind;  and  will  not  permit  iiis  shooting  at 
a  wrong  mark,  or  missing  the  right  one  he 
aims  at;  as  thousands  do,  for  want  of  this 
necessarv  branch  of  self-knowledge.  See 
Part  1.  Chap.  V. 


OP    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  15 J 


CHAP  IX. 

Scif-Knoulcdgc  leads  to  a  Decorum  and  Cow 
siatcncy  of  Character. 

A  MAN  that  knows  liitnself,  knows  how 
to  aci  with  discretion  and  dignity  in  every 
staticjn  and  character. 

Ahnost  all    the  ridicule   we   see   in    the 
worhl    takes   its   rise    from    self-ignorance, 
and  to  this  mankind  by  common  assent  as- 
cribe it,  when  they    say   of  a   person   that 
acts  out  (.if  character,  he  does  not  know 
himself.  Affectation  is  the  spring  of  all  rid- 
icule, and  self-ignorance  the  true  source  of 
affectation.  A  man  that  does  not  know  his 
proper   character,   nor    what    becomes   it, 
cannot  act  suital)ly   to   it.     He   will  often 
affect  a  character  that   does  not  belong;  to 
him;  and  will  either  act  above  or  beneath 
himself,    which     will     make     him   equally 
contemptible    in    the   eyes  of    them     that 
know  him. 

A  man  of  superior  rank  and  character, 
that  knows  himself,  knows  that  he  is  but 
a  man;  subject  to  the  same  sickness,  frail- 
ties, disappointments,  pains,  passions  and 
sorrows,  as  other  men;  that  true  honour 


156  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

lies  in  those  things  in  vvhich  it  is  possible 
for  the  meanest  peasant  to  excel  him;  and 
therefore  he  will  not  be  vainly  arrogant. 
He  knows  that  they  are  only  fransistory 
and  accidental  things,  that  set  him  above 
the  rest  of  mankind;  that  he  will  soon  be 
upon  a  level  with  theni;  and  therefore 
learns  to  condescend;  and  there  is  a  digni" 
ty  in  this  condescension;  it  does  not  sink, 
but  exalts  his  reputation  and  character. 

A  man  of  inferior  rank,  that  knows  him- 
self, knows  how  to  be  content,  quiet,  and 
thankful,  in  his  lower  sphere.  As  he  hath 
not  an  extravagant  veneration  and  es- 
teem for  those  external  things  which  raise 
one  man's  circumstance  so  much  above 
another's,  so  he  does  not  look  upon  him- 
self as  the  worse  or  less  valuable  man, 
purely  because  he  has  them  not;  much  less 
does  he  envy  them  that  have  them.  As 
he  ha^  not  their  advantages,  so  neither 
has  he  their  temptations;  he  is  in  that 
state  of  life,  which  the  great  Arbiter  and 
Disposer  of  all  things  hath  alioted  him; 
and  he  is  satisfied.  But  as  a  deference  is 
Owing  to  external  superiority,  he  knows 
how  to  pay  a  proper  respect  to  those  that 
are  abovie  him,  without  that  abject  and 
servile  cringing,  vvhich  discovers  an  inor- 
dinate esteem  for  their  condition.     As  he 


OF  belf-knoWledge.  1511 

does  not  over-esteem  them  for  those  little 
accidental  advantages  in  which  ihey  ex- 
cel him,  so  neither  does  he  over-value  him- 
self for  those  things  in  vt'hich  he  excels 
others. 

Were  hearers  to  know  themselves,  they 
would  not  take  upon  them  to  dictate  to 
their  preachers,  or  teach  their  ministers 
how  to  teach  them;  (wiiich,  as  St.  Austin 
observes,  is  the  same  thing  as  if  a  patient, 
when  he  sends  for  a  physician,  should  pre- 
scribe to  him  what  he  would  have  him 
prescribe;)  but  if  they  happen  to  hear 
something  not  quite  agreeable  to  their  for- 
mer sentiments,  would  betake  themselves 
more  diligently  to  the  study  of  their  Bi- 
bles, to  know  whether  those  things  were 
so.  (Acts  xvii.  11.) 

And  were  ministers  to  know  themselves, 
they  would  know  the  nature  and  duty  of 
their  office,  and  the  wants  and  infirmities 
of  their  hearers,  better  than  to  domineer 
over  their  faitli,  or  shoot  over  their  heads', 
and  seek  their  own  popularity,  rather  than 
their  benefit.  They  would  be  more  soli- 
citous for  their  edirtcation  tiian  their  ap- 
probation; (the  most  palatal)le  food  is  not 
always  the  most  wholesome;)  and  like  a 
faithful  physician,  would  earnestly  intend 
and  endeavour    their  good,  though  it  be  in 

14 


lj)8  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE 

a  wa.y  they  may  not  like;  and  rather  risk 
their  own  characters  with  weak  and  cap- 
tious men,  than  withhold  any  thing  that  is 
needful  for  them,  or  be  unfaithful  to  Gob 
and  their  own  consciences.  Patients  must 
not  expect  to  be  always  pleased,  nor  phy- 
sicians to  be  always  applauded. 


CHAP.  X. 

Piety  the  Effect  of  Self- Knowledge. 

Self-knowledge  tends  greatly  to  culti- 
vate a  spirit  of  true  piety. 

Ignorance  is  so  far  from  being  the  moth- 
er of  devotion,  that  nothing  is  more  de- 
structive of  it.  And  of  all  ignorance^ 
none  is  a  greater  bane  to  it  than  self-ignor- 
ance. This  indeed  is  very  consistent  with 
superstition,  bigotry  and  enthusiasm,  those 
common  counterfeits  of  piety,  which,  by 
weak  and  credulous  minds,  are  often  mis- 
taken for  it.  But  true  piety  and  real  de- 
votion can  only  spring  from  a  just  knowl- 
edge of  God  and  ourselves;  and  the  rela- 
tion we  stand  in  to  him,  and  the  depend- 
ence we  have  upon  him.  For  when  we 
consider  ourselves  as  the  creatures  of  Goi?, 


OF    SELF-KNOWLEDGK.  1.j9 

whom  he  made  for  his  honour,  and  as 
creatures  incapable  of  any  happiness,  but 
what  results  from  his  favour;  and  as  en- 
tirely and  continually  dependent  upon  him 
for  every  thing  we  have  and  hope  for; 
whilst  we  bear  this  thought  in  our  minds, 
what  can  induce  or  prompt  us  more  to  love 
and  fear  and  trust  Him,  as  our  God,  our 
Father,  and  all-sufficient  Friend  and  Help- 
er. 


CHAP.  XI. 

Self- Knowledge  (caches  us  rightJij  to  perform 
the  Duties  of  Religion. 

Self-knowledge  will  be  a  good  help 
and  direction  to  us  in  many  of  our  devout 
and  Christian  exercises.  Particularly, 

1.  In  the  duty  of  prayer;  both  as  to  the 
matter  and  mode.  [.51]  He  that  rightly 
knows  himself,  will  be  very  sensible  of  his 
spiritual  wants;  and  he  that  is  well  ac-. 
quainted  with  his  spiritual  wants,  will  not 
be  at  a  loss  what  to  pray  for.  "Our  hearts 
woidd  be  the  best  prayer  books,  if  we 
were  well  skilled  in  readins;  them.  Why 
do  men  pray,  and   call   for  prayers   when 


160  THE    GREAT    AD7ANTA«E 

they  come  to  die,  but  that  they  begin  st 
little  better  to  know  themselves?  And 
were  they  now  but  to  hear  the  voice  of 
God  and  conscience,  tiiey  would  not  re- 
main speechless.  But  they  that  are  born 
deaf  are  always  dumb." 

Again:  Self-knowledge  will  teach  us  to 
pray,  not  only  with  fluency,  but  fervency; 
will  help  us  to  keep  the  heart,  as  well  as 
order  our  speech  before  God;  and  so  pro- 
mote the  giace  as  well  as  the  gift  of  pray- 
er. Did  we  but  seriously  consider  what 
we  are,  and  what  we  are  about;  whom 
we  pray  to,  and  what  we  pray  for,  it  is 
imj;o5sible  we  should  be  so  dead,  spiritless, 
and  formal  in  this  duty,  as  we  too  often 
are.  The  very  thought  would  inspire  us 
with  life,  and  faith,  and  fervour. 

2.  Self-knowledge  will  be  very  lielpful 
to  us  in  the  duty  of  thanksgiving;  as  it 
shows  us  both  how  suitable  and  how  sea- 
sonable the  mercies  are  which  we  we  re- 
ceive. A  Christian  that  keeps  up  an  in- 
telligence with  himself,  considers  what  he 
hath,  as  well  as  what  he  wants;  and  is  no 
less  sensible  of  the  value  his  mercies,  than 
his  unworthiness  of  them  ;  and  this  is  what 
mokes  him  tharskful.  For  this  reason  it  is, 
that  one  Christian's  heart  even  melts  with 
gratitude  for  those  very  mercies,  which  oth- 


OP    SELF-KNOTVLEDCE.  iGl 

CYS  discsteem  and  depreciate,  and  porlinps 
despise,  because  they  liave  not  what  they 
think  j?reater.  But  a  man  that  knows  him- 
self, knows  tliat  he  deserves  nothing,  and 
therefore  is  thankful  for  every  thing.  For 
thankfulness  as  necessarily  flows  from 
humility,  as  humility  does  from  self-ac- 
quaintance. 

3.  In  the  duties  of  reading  and  hearing 
the  word  of  God,  self-knowledge  is  of  ex- 
cellent use  to  enable  us  to  understand  and 
apply  that  which  we  read  or  hear.  Did 
we  hunderstand  our  hearts  better,  we 
should  understand  the  word  of  God  better; 
for  that  speaks, to  the  heart.  A  man  that 
is  acquainted  with  iiis  own  heart,  present- 
ly sees  how  the  divine  word  penetrates 
and  exj)lorcs,  searches  and  lays  open  its 
most  inward  parts,  feels  what  he  reads; 
and  finds  that  a  quickening  spirit,  which  to 
to  a  self-ignorant  man  is  but  a  dead  let- 
ter. 

Moreover,  this  self-acquaintance  teaches 
a  man  to  apply  what  he  reads  and  hears 
of  the  word  of  God.  lie  sees  the  perti- 
nence, congruity,  and  suitableness  of  it  to 
his  own  case;  and  lays  it  up  faithfully  in 
the  store-room  oi"  his  mind,  to  be  digested 
and  improved  by  his  after-thoughts,  And 
it  is  bv  this  art  of  applying  scripture,  ard 

14* 


162  THE    «REAT    ADVANTAGE 

urging  the  most  suitable  instructions  and 
admonitions  of  it  home  upon  our  conscien- 
ces, that  we  receive  the  greatest  benefit 
by  it. 

4.  Nothing  is  of  more  eminent  service  in 
the  great  duty  of  meditation;  especially 
in  that  part  of  it  which  consists  in  heart- 
converse  A  man  who  is  unacquainted  with 
hin}self,  is  as  unfit  to  converse  with  his 
iieart,  as  he  'is  with  a  stranger  he  never 
saw,  and  whose  taste  and  tentper  he  is  al- 
together unacquainted  with.  He  knows 
not  how  to  get  his  thoughts  about  him.  And 
when  he  has,  he  knows  not  how  to  r?(nge  and 
fix  them ;  and  hath  no  more  \he  command  of 
them,  than  a  general  has  of  a  wild,  undis- 
ciplined arm>,  that  has  never  been  exercis- 
ed or  accustomed  to  obedience  and  order. 
But  one  who  hath  made  it  the  study  of 
his  life  to  be  acquainted  with  himself,  is 
soon  disposed  to  enter  into  a  free  and  fa- 
miliar converse  with  his  own  heart;  and 
in  such  a  self-conference  improves  more  in 
true  wisdom,  and  acquires  more  useful  and 
substantial  knowledge,  than  he  could  do 
from  the  most  polite  and  refined  conversa- 
tion in  the  world.  Of  such  excellent  use 
is  self-knowledge  in  all  the  duties  of  de- 
*Totioia  and  piety. 


or    SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  163 


CHAP.  XII 

Se/f-Knoivkdgc    the    best     Preparation  fat 

Death. 

Self-knowlkbge  will  be  an  habitual  pre- 
paration for  death,  and  a  constant  guard 
against  the  surprise  of  it.  Because  it  fix- 
es and  settles  our  hopes  of  future  happi- 
ness— That  which  makes  the  thoughts* of 
death  so  terrifying  to  the  soul,  is  its  «tter 
uncertainty  what  will  become  of  it  after 
death.  Were  this  uncertainty  to  be  remov- 
ed, a  thousand  things  would  reconcile  us  to 
the  thoughts  of  dying.     [55] 

"Distrust  and  darkness  of  a  future  state, 
"Is  that  whicli  makes  tnankind  to  dread  their  fate! 
"Dying  is  notliing,  but  'tis  this  we  fear, 
"To  be  we  know  not  what,  we  koow  not  where." 

Now  self-knowledge  in  a  good  degree 
dissipates  this  gloom,  aiul  removes  this 
dreadful  doubt.  For  as  the  word  of  God 
hath  reveahnl  the  certainty  of  a  future 
state  of  hi'ppuuss,  which  the  good  man 
shall  enter  upon  after  death,  and  plainly 
described  the  requisite  cpialiiication  for  it; 
when,  bv  a  long  and  laborious  self-ac- 
(^uaiiUcUice,  he  comes  disiiiiciiy  to  discern 


ik64r  THE    GREAT    ADVANTAGE,  &C. 

those  qualifications  in  himself,  his  hopes 
of  heaven  soon  raise  him  above  the  fears 
of  death.  And  though  he  may  not  be  able 
to  form  any  clear  or  distinct  conc^])tion  of 
the  nature  of  that  happiness,  yet,  in  gen- 
eral, he  is  assured  that  it  will  be  a  most 
extensive  one,  and  will  contain  in  it  every 
thing  necessary  lo  it  make  complete;  be- 
cause it  will  come  inmiediately  from  God 
himself.  Whereas  they  who  know  not  what 
they  are.  must  necessarily  be  ignorant  what 
they  shall  be.  A  man  that  is  all  darkness 
within,  can  have  but  a  dark  prospect  for- 
ward.    [.56] 

Oh,  what  would  we  not  give  for  solid 
hope  in  death?  Reader,  wouldst  thou  have 
itj  know  God,  and  know  thyself. 


i^ASii^  mi^ 


Showing  how  Self-Knowhdge  is  to  he  attain- 
ed. 

From  what  has  been  said  under  the  two 
former  parts  of  the  subject,  self-knowledge 
appears  to  be  in  itself  so  excellent,  and  in 
its  effects  so  extensively  useful  and  con- 
ducive to  the  happiness  of  human  kind, 
that  nothing  need  further  be  added  by 
way  of  motive  or  inducement  to  excite  us 
to  make  it  the  great  object  of  our  study 
and  pursuit,  ff  we  regard  our  present 
peace,  satisfaction  and  usefulness,  or  our 
future  and  everlasting  interests,  we  shall 
certainly  value  and  prosecute  this  knowl- 
edge above  all  others;  as  what  will  be 
most  ornamental  to  our  characters  and 
beneficial  to  our  interests  in  every  stale  of 
jile,  and  abundantly  recompense  all  our 
labour. 

Were  there  need  of  any  further  motives 
to  excite  us  to  this,  I  might  lay  o])en  (he 
many  dreadful  effects  of  self-ignorance, 
aixl  show  how  plainly  it  appears  to  be 
the  original  spring  of  all  the  follies  and 
incongruities  we  see  in  the  characters   of 


166  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

men,  and  of  most  of  the  mortifications 
and  miseries  they  meet  with  here.  This 
would  soon  appear  by  only  mentioning  the 
reverse  of  those  advantages  before  speci- 
fied, which  result  from  self-knowledge. 
For  what  is  it  but  a  want  of  self-knowl- 
edge that  makes  us  so  unsettled  and  vola- 
tile in  our  dispositions?  So  subject  to 
transport  and  excess  of  passions  in  the 
varying  scenes  of  life?  So  rash  and  un- 
guarded in  our  conduct.?  So  vain  and  self- 
sufficient?  So  censorious  and  malignant? 
So  eager  and  confident?  So  little  useful  in 
the  world,  in  comparison  of  what  we 
might  be?  So  inconsistent  with  ourselves? 
So  mistaken  in  our  notions  of  true  religion  ? 
So  generally  indisposed  to,  or  unengaged 
in,  the  holy  duties  of  it.?  And  finally,  so 
unfit  for  death,  and  so  afraid  of  dying? — 1 
say,  to  what  is  all  this  owing,  but  self-ig- 
norance? the  first  and  fruitful  source  of  ail 
this  long  train  of  evils.  And  indeed  there 
is  scarce  any,  but  what  may  be  traced  up 
to  it.  In  short,  it  brutifies  man  to  be  ignor- 
ant of  himself.  Man  that  is  in  honour,  ynd 
vinderstandeth  not  (himself  especially)  is 
like  the  beasts  that  perish.  (Psalm  xlix. 
20.) 

"Come   home    then,   O    my   wandering, 
self-neglecting  soul;  lose  not  thyself,  in  a 


Id  TO  BE  ATTAINE1>.  I6t 

wilderness   or  tumult  of  impertinent,  vain, 
distracting   things.     Thy   work    is   nearer 
thee ;  tlie  country  thou  shouldest  first  sur- 
vey and  travel,  is  within  thee;  from  which 
thou  must  pass  to  that  above  thee;  when, 
by  losing  thyself  in  this  without  thee,  thou 
wilt  find  thyself  before  tliou   art  aware  in 
that   below   thee.     Let    the  eyes   of  fools 
be  in  the  corners  of  the  earth;  leave  it  to 
men  beside    themselves,  to  live  as  without 
themselves;    do   thou  keep  at  home,  and 
mind  thine  own    business.  '  Survey  thvself, 
thine  own  make  and  nature,  and  thou  wilt 
find  full  employment  for  all  thy  most  active 
thoughts.  [57  j  But  dost  thou  delight  in  the 
mysteries    of  nature?     Consider  well   the 
mystery  of  thy  own.     The  compedium   of 
all  thou  studiest  is  near  thee,  even  within 
thee;    thyself     being   the  epitome  of   the 
world.    [.58]    If    neither  necessity  or  duty, 
nature  or  grace,  reason   or   faith,  internal 
inducements,  external   impulses,  or  eternal 
motives,  might   determine    the   subject    of 
thy  study  and  contemplation,  thou  wouldst 
call  home  thy  distracted  thoughts,  and  em- 
ploy them  more  on  thyself  and  thy  God." 

Now  then  let  us  resolve  that  hence- 
forth the  study  of  ourselves  shall  be  the 
business  of  our  lives.  That  by  the  bles- 
sing of  God  we  may   arrive   at  such    a  de- 


168  JHOW   SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

gree  of  self-knowledge  as  may  secure  to 
us  the  excellent  benefits  before  mentioned;, 
To  which  end,  we  should  do  well  to  attend 
diligently  to  the  rules  laid  down  in  the  fol- 
lowing chapters. 


CHAP.  L 

Self-Examination  necessary  to  Self-Knowl^ 

edge. 

The  first  thing  necessary  to  self-knowl- 
edge is  self-inspection. 

We  must  often  look  into  our  hearts,  if 
we  would  know  them.  They  are  very  de- 
ceitful; more  so  than  we  can  imagine  till 
we  have  searched  and  tried  and  watched 
them  well.  We  may  meet  with  frauds  and 
faithless  dealings  from  men;  but  after  all, 
our  own  hearts  are  the  greatest  cheats ;  and 
there  are  none  we  are  in  a  greater  danger 
from  than  ourselves.  We  must  first  sus- 
pect ourselves,  then  examine  ourselves, 
then  whtch  ourselves,  if  we  expect  ever 
to  know  ourselves.  How  is  it  possible 
there  should  l)e  any  self-acquaintance 
without  self-converse? 

Were  a  man  to  accustom  himself  to  such 


is  T«  *E  ATTA^^*fc>-  169 

self-employment,  he  need  not  live  till  thir- 
ty before  he  suspects  himsell"  a  fool,  or  till 
forty  before  he  knows  it.     [59] 

Men  could  never  be  so  bad  as  they  are^ 
if  they  did  but  take  a  i)roper  care  and 
scope  in  this  business  of  self-examination; 
[60J  if  they  did  but  look  backwards  to 
what  they  were,  inwards  to  what  they  are, 
and  forwards  to  what  they  shall  be. 

And  as  this  is  the  first  and  most  neces- 
sary step  to  self-ac(iuaintance,  it  may  not 
be  aniiss  to  be  a  little  more  particular  in  it. 
Therefore, 

1.  This  business  of  self-scrutiny  must  be 
performed  with  ^reat  care  and  diligence, 
otherwise  our  hearts  will  deceive  us,  even 
whilst  we  are  examining  of  them.  "When 
we  set  ourselves  to  think,  some  trifle  or 
other  presently  interrupts  and  draws  us  oHf 
from  any  profitable  recollection.  Nay, 
we  ourselves  fly  out,  and  are  glad  to  be  di- 
rected from  a  serere  examination  into  our 
own  state;  which  is  sure,  if  diligently  pur- 
sued, to  present  us  with  objects  of  shame 
and  sorrow,  which  will  wound  our  sight, 
and  soon  make  us  weary  of  this  necessary 
work. 

Do  not  let  us  flatter  ourselves  then  that 
this  is  a  mighty  easy  business.  Much 
pains  and  care  are  necessary  sometimes  to 

15 


.170  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

keep  the  mind  intent,  and  more  to  keep  it 
inipartial.  And  the  difficulty  of  it  is  the 
reason  that  so  many  are  averse  to  it,  and 
care  not  to  descend  into  themselves. 

Reader!  try  the  experiment;  retire  now 
into  thyself;  and  see  if  thou  canst  not 
strike  out  some  light  within,  by  closely  urg- 
ing such  questions  as  these: — "What  am 
I?  For  what  was  I  made?  And  to  what 
ends  have  I  been  preserved  so  long  by  the 
favour  of  my  Maker?  Do  I  remember  or 
forget  those  ends?  Have  f  answered  or 
perverted  them.^  What  have  1  been  do- 
ing since  I  came  into  the  world*?  What 
is  the  world,  or  myself,  the  better  for  my 
living  so  many  years  in  it?  What  is  my 
allowed  course  of  action?  Am  I  sure  it 
will  bear  the  future  test?  Am  I  now  in 
that  state  1  shall  wish  to  die  in?  And,  O 
my  soul,  think,  and  think  again,  what  it  is 
to  die:  do  not  put  that  most  awful  event 
far  from  thee;  nor  pass  it  by  with  a  su- 
perficial thought.  Canst  thou  be  too  well 
fortified  against  the  terrors  of  that  day? 
And  art  tiiou  sure  that  the  props  which 
support  thee  now,  will  not  fail  thee  then? 
— What  hopes  hast  thou  for  eternity! 
Hast  thou  indeed  that  godly  temper  which 
alone  can  fit  thee  for  the  enjoyment  of 
God?  Which  world  art  thou  most  cojicern- 


IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED.  171 

ed  for?  What  thines  do  most  deeply  af- 
fect thee? — O  my  soul,  rememl)rr  thy  die;- 
nity;  think  how  soon  the  scene  will  shift. 
Why  wouldst  thou  forget  that  thou  art  im- 
mortal.? 

2.  This  self-excitation  and  scrutiny 
must  be  frequently  made. — They  who 
*have  a  great  deal  of  important  business 
on  their  hands  should  often  look  over  their 
accounts,  and  frequently  adjust  them;  lest 
they  should  be  going  backwards,  and  not 
know  it.  And  custom  will  soon  take  off 
the  difficulty  of  this  duty,  and  make  it  de- 
lightful. 

In  our  morning  retreat,  it  will  be  proper 
to  remember,  that  we  cannot  preserve 
throughout  the  day  that  calm  and  even 
temper  we  may  then  be  in.  That  we  shall 
verv  probably  meet  with  some  things  to 
ruffle  us ;  some  attack  on  our  weak  side. 
Place  a  guard  there  now.  Or,  however,  if 
no  incidents  happen  to  discompose  us, 
our  tempers  will  vary;  our  thoughts  will 
flow  |)retty  much  with  our  blood;  and  the 
dispositions  of  the  mind  be  a  good  deal 
governed  by  the  motions  of  the  animal 
spirit;  otu*  souls  will  be  serene  or  cloud}', 
our  tempers  volatile  or  phlegmatic,  and 
our  inclinations  sober  or  irregular,  accord- 
ing   to  the  briskness  or  sluggishness  of  the 


172  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

the  circulation  of  the  animal  fluids,  what- 
ever may  be   the   natural   and   immediate 
cause  of  that ;  and,  therefore,  we  must  re- 
solve   to  avoid    all    occasions    that    may 
raise  any  dangerous  ferments  there;  which, 
when  once  raised,   will   excite  in   us   very 
different  thoughts    and    dispositions  from 
from  those  we  now  have;  which,  together 
with  the   force   of  a   fair  opportunity   and 
urgent  tenjptation,  may   overset  ov-v  reason 
and  resolution,  and   betray   us    into  those 
sinful  indulgences    which   will   wound   the 
conscience,  stain  the  soul,  and  create  bit- 
ter remorse  in  our  cooler  reflections.  Pious 
thoughts  and  purposes  in  the  morning  will 
set  a  guard   upon   the  soul,  and   fortify   it 
under  all  the  temptations  of  the  day. 

But  self-inspection,  however,  should  not 
fail  to  make  part  of  our  evening  devotions. 
V/hen  we  should   review  and  examine  the 
several   actions   of   the    day,  the   various 
tempers  and  dispositions  we  have  been  in, 
and   the   occasions   that  excited  them.     Ft 
is  an  advice  worthy  of  a  Christian,  though 
it  first  dropped  from  a   heathen  pen;  that 
before  we   betake    ourselves    to  rest,  we 
review  and  examine    all  the  passages  of 
the  day,  that  we  may  have  the  comfort  of 
what  we  have  done  aright,  and  may  redress 
what  we  find  to  have  been  amiss ;  and  make 
the  shipwrecks  of  one  day,  be  as  marks  la 


IS    TO    BR    ATTAINED.  17 'J 

direct  our  course  on  anolher. — A  practice 
that  iuith  been  reconiniended  by  many  ol" 
the  heathen  moralists  of  the  greatest 
name,  as  Plutarch,  E|)ictetus,  Marcus  An- 
toninus; and  particularly  Pythagoras,  in 
the  verses  that  go  under  his  name,  and  are  * 
called  his  golden  verses;  wherein  he  ad- 
vises his  scholars  every  night  to  recollect 
the  pissai!,es  of  the  day,  and  ask  them- 
selves these  nuestions:  Wherein  have  I 
transgressed  this  day?  What  have  Idone.^ 
What  duty  have  I  omitted?  kc.  [61]  vSenc- 
ca  recommends  the  same  practice.  "Sec- 
tius  (saith  he)  did  this:  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  before  he  betook  himself  to  resi, 
he  addressed  his  soul  in  the  following 
manner:  What  evil  of  thine  hast  tliou 
cured  this  day?  What  vice  w^ithstood.^  in 
what  respect  art  thou  better.?''  Passion 
will  cease,  or  become  more  cool,  when  it 
knows  every  day  it  is  to  be  thus  called  to 
account.  What  can  be  more  advanta- 
geous than  this  constant  custom  of  search- 
ing  through   the   day? And   the  same 

course  (saith  Seneca)  I  take  myself;  and  \ 
every  day  sit  in  judgment  on  myself;  and 
at  even,  when  all  is  Jiush  and  still,  I  make 
a  scrutiny  into  the  day;  look  over  ni} 
words  and  actions,  and  hide  nothing  from 
myself;    conceal    none   of     my    mi'^takci? 

15^ 


174  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

through  fear;  for  why  should  I,  when  I 
have  it  in  my  power  to  say  thus:  "This 
once  I  forgive  thee;  but  see  thou  do  so  no 
more.  In  such  a  dispute  1  was  too  keen; 
do  not  for  the  future  contend  with  ignor- 
ant men;  they  will  not  be  convinced,  be- 
cause they  are  unwilling  to  show  their  ig- 
norance. Such  a  one  I  reproved  with  too 
much  freedom;  whereby  I  have  not  re- 
formed, but  exasperated  him;  remember 
hereafter  to  be  more  mild  in  your  cen- 
sures; and  consider  not  only  whether 
what  you  say  be  true,  but  whether  the 
person  you  say  it  to,  can  bear  to  hear  the 
truth." — Tiius  far  that  excellent  moral- 
ist. 

Let  us  tnke  a  few  other  specimens  of  a 
more  pious  and  Christian  turn,  from  a  ju- 
dicious and  devout  vvriter. 

"This  morning  when  I  arose,  instead  of 
of  applying  myself  to  God  in  prayer, 
which  I  generally  find  it  best  to  do,  imme- 
diately after  a  few  serious  reflections,  I 
gave  way  to  idle  musing,  to  the  great  dis- 
order of  my  heart  and  frame.  How  often 
have  I  suffered  for  want  of  more  watch- 
fulness on  this  occasion?     When  shall   I 

be  wise.? 1   have   this   day  shamefully 

trifled,  almost  through  the  whole  of  it; 
w.as  in  my  bed  when  I  should   have  been 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  175 

UDOn  my  knees;  prayed  but  coolly  in  the 
m  Jiiiing:  was  strangely  oft'  my  guard  in  the 
business  and  conversation  1  was  concerned 
within  the  day,  particularly  at ;  [  in- 
dulged very  foolish,  sinful,  vile  thoughts, 
&c.  1  fell  in  with  a  strain  of  conversa- 
tion too  common  amongst  all  sorts,  viz. 
speaking  evil  of  others;  taking  up  a  re- 
proach against  mv  neighbour.  I  have  often 
resolved  against  this  sin,  and  yet  run  into 
it  again.  How  treacherous  this  wicked 
lieart  of  mine!  I  have  lost  several  hours 
this  day  in  more  sauntering  and  idleness. — 
This  day  I  had  an  instance  of  mine  own 
infirmity,  that  I  was  a  little  surprised  at, 
and  1  am  sure  1  ought  to  be  humble  for. 

The  behaviour  of from   whom   I  can 

expect  nothing  but  humour,  indiscretion 
and  folly,  strangely  ruffled  me;  and  that 
after  I  have  had  warning  over  and  over 
again. — What  a  poor,  impotent,  contempti- 
ble creature  am  1?  This  day  I  have  been 
kept  in  a  great  measure  from  my  too  fre- 
quent failings. — 1  had  very  cojnfortable  as- 
sistance from  Cou,  upon  an  occasion  not  a 
little  trying — what  shall  I  render?" 

3.  See  that  tlu;  mind  be  in  the  most 
composed  and  disengaged  frame  it  can, 
when  we  enter  upon  this  busiuess  of  sc.-lf- 
judgment. — Choose  a  time  when  it  is  most 


176  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

at  leisure  from  the  cares  and  affairs  of  life. 
A  judge  is  not  like  to  bring  a  cause  to  a 
good  issue,  that  is  either  intoxicated  with 
liquor  on  the  bench,  or  has  his  mind  dis- 
tracted with  other  cares,  when  he  should 
be  intent  on  the  trial.  Remember  you  sit 
in  judgment  upon  yourself,  and  have  noth- 
ing to  do  at  present  but  to  sift  the  evi- 
dence which  conscience  may  bring  in,  eith- 
er for  against  you,  in  order  to  pronounce  a 
just  sentence;  which  is  of  much  greater 
concernment  to  you  at  present  than  any 
thing  else  can  be;  and  therefore  it  should 
be  transacted  with  the  utmost  care,  com- 
posure and  attention. 

4.  Beware  of  partiality,  and  the  influence 
of  self-love,  in  this  weighty  business; 
which,  if  you  do  not  guard  against,  will 
soon  lead  you  into  self-delusion;  the  con- 
sequences of  which  may  be  fatal  to  you. 
Labour  to  see  yourself  as  you  are;  and 
view  things  in  a  just  light,  and  not  in  that 
in  which  you  would  have  them  appear. 
Remember  that  the  mind  is  always  apt  to 
believe  those  things  which  it  would  have 
to  be  true,  and  backward  to  credit  what  it 
wishes  to  be  false;  and  this  is  an  influence 
you  will  certainly  lie  under  in  this  affair  of 
self-judgment. 

You  need  not  be  much  afraid  of  being 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  177 

too  severe  upon  yourself.  Your  great  dan- 
ger will  be  of  passing  a  too  favourable 
judgment.  A  judge  ought  not  indeed  to 
be  a  party  concerned ;  and  should  have  no 
interest  in  the  person  he  sits  in  judgment 
upon.  But  this  cannot  be  the  case  here; 
as  you  yourself  are  both  judge  and  crimi- 
nal, which  shows  the  danger  of  pronoun- 
cing a  too  favourable  sentence.  But  re- 
incmber,  your  business  is  only  with  the  ev- 
idence and  the  rule  of  judgment;  and 
that,  ho'.vever  you  come  off  now,  there  will 
be  a  rehearinc"  in  another  court,  where  judg- 
ment will  be  itccording  to  truth, 

'•However,  look  not  unequally  either  at 
the  good  or  evil  that  is  in  you;  but  view 
them  as  they  are.  If  you  observe  only 
the  good  that  is  in  you,  and  overlook  the 
bad,  or  search  only  after  your  faults,  and 
overlook  your  graces,  neither  of  these 
will  bring  you  to  a  true  acquaintance  with 
yourself." 

And  to  induce  you  to  this  impartiality, 
remember  that  this  business  (though  it 
may  be  hid  from  the  world)  is  not  done 
in  secret:  God  sees  how  you  manage  it, 
before  whose  tril)unal  you  must  expect  a 
righteous  judenient.  "We  should  order 
our  thoughts  so  (saith  Seneca)  as  if  we 
had  a  window  in  our  breasts,  through  whick 


178  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

any  one  might  see  what  passes  there.  And 
indeed  there  is  one  that  does;  for  what 
does  it  signify  that  our  thoughts  are  hid 
from  men?  From  God  nothing  is  hid.*' 

5.  Beware  of  false  rules  of  judgment. 
This  is  a  sure  and  common  way  to  self- 
deception:  e.  g.  Some  judge  of  themselves 
by  what  they  have  been.  But  it  does  not 
follow,  if  men  ar^  not  so  had  as  they  have 
been,  that  therefore  they  are  as  good  as 
they  should  be.  It  is  wrong  to  make  our 
past  conduct  implicitly  the  measure  of  our 
present;  or  the  present  the  rule  of  our  fu- 
ture; when  our  past,  present  and  future 
conduct  must,  be  all  brought  to  another 
rule.  And  they  who  measure  themselves 
by  themselves,  are  not  wise.  (2  Cor.  x.  12.) 
Again,  others  are  apt  to  judge  of  them- 
selves by  the  opinions  of  men;  which  is 
the  most  uncertain  rule  that  can  be;  for 
in  that  very  opinion  of  theirs  you  may  be 
deceived.  How  do  you  know  they  have 
really  formed  so  good  an  idea  of  you  as 
they  profess?  But  if  they  have,  may  not 
others  have  formed  as  bnd.^  And  why 
should  not  the  judgment  of  these  be  your 
rule,  as  well  as  the  opinion  of  those?  Ap- 
peal to  self-flattery  for  an  answer.  Howev- 
er, neither  one  nor  the  other  of  them  per- 
haps appear  even  to  know  themselves;  and 


IS   TO    BE    ATTAINED.  \7% 

how  should  they  know  you.^  How  is  it 
possible  they  should  have  opportunities  of 
knowing  you  better  than  you  know  your- 
self? A  man  can  never  gain  a  right  knowl- 
edge of  himself  from  the  opinion  of  oth- 
ers, which  is  so  various,  and  generally  so 
ill  founded.  For  men  commonly  judge  by 
outward  appearances,  or  inward  prejudice, 
and  therefore  for  the  most  part  think  and 
speak  of  us  very  much  at  random.  Again, 
others  are  for  judging  of  themselves  by  the 
conduct  of  their  superiors^  who  have  op- 
portunities and  advantages  of  knowing, 
acting,  and  i)eing  belter;  *'and  yet,  without 
vanity  be  it  spoken,  (say  they)  we  are  not 
behind  hand  with  them."  But  what  then? 
Neither  they  nor  you,  perhaf)S,  are  what 
the  obligations  of  your  character  indispen- 
sably require  you  to  be,  and  what  you 
iTiusr  be  ere  you  can  be  happy.  But  con- 
sider how  easily  this  argument  may  be  re- 
torted. You  are  better  than  some,  you 
snv.  who  have  greater  opportumities  and 
advantages  of  being  good  than  you  have; 
and  therefore  your  state  is  safe.  But  you 
yourself  have  greater  opportunities  and 
advantages  of  being  good  thftn  some  oth- 
ers have,  who  are  nevertheless  better 
than  you;  and  therefore,  by  the  same  ride, 
your  state  cannot  be  safe. — Again,  others 


180  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

judge  themselves  by  the  common  maxims 
of  the  vulgar  world  concerning  honour  and 
honesty,  virtue  and  interest;  which  max- 
ims, though  generally  very  corrupt  and 
very  contrary  to  those  of  reason,  con- 
Science,  and  scripture,  men  will  follow,  as 
a  rule,  for  the  sake  of  the  latitude  it  al- 
lows them;  and  fondly  think,  that  if  they 
Stand  right  in  the  opinion  of  the  lowest 
kind  of  men,  they  have  no  reason  to  be 
severe  upon  themselves.  Others,  whose 
sentiments  are  more  delicate  and  refined, 
they  imagine,  may  be  mistaken,  or  may  o- 
verstrain  the  matter.  In  which  peisuasion 
they  are  confirmed,  by  observing  how  sel- 
dom the  consciences  of  the  generality  of 
men  smite  them  for  those  things  which 
these  nice  judges  condemn  as  heinous 
crimes.  I  need  not  say  how  false  and  per- 
nicious a  rule  this  is.  Again,  others  may 
judge  of  themselves  and  their  state  by 
isudden  impressions  they  have  had,  or 
strong  impulses  upon  their  spirits,  which 
they  attribute  to  the  anger  of  God;  and 
by  which  they  have  been  so  exceedingly 
affected  as  to  make  no  doubt  but  that  it 
was  the  instant  of  their  conversation.  But 
whether  it  was  or  not,  can  never  be  known 
but  by  the  conduct  of  their  lives. — In  like 
manner,  others  judge   of  their  good  state 


by  their  good  frames;  though  very  rave,  it 
may  be,  and  very  transient;  soon  passing 
off  like  a  morning  cloud,  or  as  the  early 
dew.  "But  we  should  not  judge  of  our- 
selves by  that  which  is  unusual  or  extra- 
ordinary with  us;  but  by  the  ordinary  tenor 
and  drift  of  our  lives.  A  bad  man  may  saem 
good  in  some  good  mood ;  and  a  good  man 
may  seem  bad  in  some  extraordinary  falls. 
To  judge  of  a  bad  man  by  his  best  hours^ 
and  a  good  man  by  his  worst,  is  the  way 
to  be  deceived  in  them  both."  And  the 
same  way  may  you  be  deceived  in  your- 
self.  Pliaraoli,  Ahab,  Herod,  and  Pclix, 

had  all  of  them  their  softenings,  their  tran- 
sitory fits  of  goodness ;  but  yet  they  re- 
main upon  record  under  the  blackest  char- 
acters. 

Tiiese  then  are  all  wrong  rules  of  judg- 
ment; and  to  trust  to  them,  or  to  try  our- 
selves by  them,  leads  to  fatal  self-decep- 
tion.    Again, 

6.  In  the  business  of  self-examination 
you  must  not  only  take  care  you  do  not 
judge  by  wrong  rules,  but  that  you  do  not 
judge  wrong  by  right  rules.  You  must  en- 
deavour, tlien,  to  be  well  acquainted  with 
them.  The  office  of  a  judge  is  not  only  to 
collect  the  evidence  and  the  circumstances 

16 


182  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDaE 

of  facts,  but  to  be  well  skilled  in  the  lawsf 
by  which  those  facts  are  to  be  examined. 

Now  the  only  right  rules  by  which  we 
are  to  examine,  in  order  to  know  ourselves, 
are  reason  and  scripture.  Some  are  for  set- 
ting aside  these  rules,  as  too  severe  for 
them;  too  stiff  to  bend  to  their  perverse- 
ness;  too  straight  to  measure  their  crook- 
ed ways;  are  against  reason,  when  reason 
is  against  them,  decrying  it  as  carnal  rea- 
son; and  against  scripture,  when  scripture 
is  against  them,  despising  it  as  a  dead  let- 
ter. And  thus,  rather  than  be  convinced 
they  are  wrong,  they  reject  the  only  means 
that  can  set  them  right. 

And  as  some  are  for  setting  aside  these' 
rules,  so  others  are  for  setting  them  one 
against  the  other;  reason  against  scrip- 
ture, and  scripture  against  reason;  when 
they  are  both  given  us  by  the  God  of  our 
natures,  not  only  as  perfectly  consistent, 
but  as  proper  to  explain  and  illustrate 
each  other,  and  prevent  our  mistaking  eith- 
er; and  to  be,  when  taken  together,  (as 
they  always  should)  the  most  complete 
and  only  rule  by  which  to  judge  both  of 
ourselves,  and  every  thing  belonging  to  our 
salvation,  as  reasonable  and  fallen  crea- 
tures. 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAIN'ED.  183 

1.  Then  one  part  of  that  rule  which 
God  hath  given  us,  to  judge  of  ourselves 
by,  is  right  reason.  By  which  i  do  not 
mean  tiie  reasoning  of  nny  particular 
man,  which  may  be  very  different  from  the 
reasoning  of  another  particular  man;  and 
both,  it  may  be,  very  different  from  right 
reason;  because  both  may  be  influen- 
ced not  so  much  by  the  reason  and  na- 
ture of  things,  as  by  partial  prej^osses- 
sions  and  the  power  of  passions.  But  by 
right  reason,  I  mean  those  common  princi- 
ples, which  are  readily  allowed  by  all  who 
lire  capable  of  understanding  them,  and 
not  notoriously  perverted  by  the  force  of 
prejudice;  and  which  are  ronlirmed  by 
the  coininon  consent  of  all  the  sober  and 
thinking  part  of  mankind;  and  may  be 
easily  learned  by  the  light  of  nature. 
Therefore,  if  any  doctrine  or  ])ractice, 
though  supposed  to  be  founded  in,  or  coun- 
tenanced bv  revelation,  be  nevertheless  ap- 
parently repugnant  to  these  doctrines  of 
right  reason,  or  evidently  contradict  our 
natural  notions  of  the  divine  attributes, 
or  weaken  our  obligations  to  universal  vir- 
tue, that  we  may  be  sure  is  no  part  of  rev- 
elatiin;  because,  then  one  part  of  our  rule 
womKI  clash  vvifh  and  be  opposite  to  the 
other.     And  thus    reason   was  designed  to 


184  HOW    SELF-KI^OVVLEDGE 

be  our  guard  against  a  wild  and  extrava- 
gant construction  of  scripture. 

2.  The  otlier  part  of  our  rule  is  the  sa- 
cred scriptures,  which  we  are  to  use  as 
our  guard  against  the  licentious  excursions 
of  fancy,  which  is  often  imposing  itself 
upon  us  for  right  reason.  Let  any  religious 
scheme  or  notion  then  appear  ever  so 
pleasing  or  plausible,  if  it  be  not  estab- 
lished on  the  plain  principles  of  scripture, 
it  is  forthwith  to  be  discarded;  and  that 
sense  of  scripture  that  is  violently  forced 
to  bend  towards  it,  is  very  much  to  be  sus-' 
pected. 

It  must  be  very  surprising  to  one  who 
reads  and  studies  the  sacred  scriptures 
with  a  free,  unbiassed  mind,  to  see  what 
elaborate,  fine-spun,  flimsy  glosses,  men 
w^ill  invent  to  put  upon  some  texts  as  the 
true  and  genuine  sense  of  them;  for  no 
other  reason  but  because  it  is  most  agree- 
able to  the  opinion  of  their  party,  from 
which,  as  the  standard  of  their  orthodoxy, 
they  durst  never  depart;  who,  if  they  were 
to  write  a  critique  in  the  same  manner  on 
any  Greek  or  Latin  author,  would  make 
themselves  extremely  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  the  learned  world.  But  if  we  would  not 
pervert  our  rule,  we  must  learn  to  think  as 
scripture  speaks,  and  not  compel  that  to 
speak  as  we  think, 


IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED.  185 

Would  we  know  ourselves,  then,  wt 
must  often  view  ourselves  in  the  glass  of 
Goi>'s  word.  And  when  we  have  taken  a 
full  survey  of  ourselves  from  thence,  let  us 
not  soon  forget  what  manner  of  persons 
we  are.  (James  i.  2'.i,  24.)  If  our  own  image 
do  not  please  us,  let  us  not  quarrel  with 
our  mirror,  but  set  about  mending  our- 
selves. 

The  eye  of  the  mind,  indeed,  is  not  like 
that  of  the  body,  which  can  see  every 
thing  else  hut  itself;  for  the  eye  of  the 
mind  can  turn  itself  inward,  and  survey  it- 
self.— However,  it  must  be  owned,  it  can 
see  itself  much  better  when  its  own  image 
is  reflected  upon  it  from  this  mirror.  And 
it  is  by  this  only  that  we  can  come  at  the 
bottom  of  our  hearts,  and  discover  those 
secret  prejudices  and  carnal  [)reposscs- 
sions,  which  self-love  would  hide  from  us. 

This  then  is  the  first  thing  we  must  do 
in  order  to  self-knowledge;  we  must  exam- 
ine, scrutinize,  and  judge  ourselves  dili- 
gently, leisurely,  frequently,  and  impartial- 
ly; and  that  not  by  the  false  maxims  of 
the  world,  but  by  the  rules  which  God 
hath  given  us,  reason  and  scripture;  and 
take  care  to  understand  those  rides,  and  not 
set  them  at  variance. 


186  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 


CHAP.  II. 

Constant    Watchfulness  necessary   to    Self' 
Knowledge. 

Would  we  know  ourselves,  we  must  be 
very  watchful  over  our  hearts  and  lives. 

1.  We  must  keep  a  vigilant  eye  upon 
our  hearts,  i.  e.  our  tempers,  inclinations 
and  passions.  A  more  necessary  piece  of 
advice,  in  order  to  self-acquaintance, 
there  cannot  be,  then  that  which  Solomon 
gives  us.  Keep  your  heart  with  all  dili- 
gence, (Prov.  iv.  23.)  or,  as  it  is  in  the  or- 
iginal, above  all  keeping,  q.  d.  Whatev- 
er you  neglect  or  overlook,  be  sure  you 
mind  your  heart.  [62J  Narrowly  observe 
all  its  inclinations  and  aversions,  all  its 
motions  and  affections,  together  with  the 
several  objects  and  occasions  which  ex- 
cite them.  And  this  precept  we  find  in 
scripture  enforced  with  two  very  urgent 
reasons.  The  first  is,  because  out  of  it 
are  the  issues  of  life;  i.  e.  As  our  heart  is, 
so  will  the  tenor  of  our  life  and  conduct 
be.  As  is  the  fountain,  so  are  the  streams; 
8I.S  is  the  root,  so  is  the  fruit.  (Matth.  vii.  18.) 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  187 

And  the  other  is,  because  it  is  deceitful  a- 
bove  ciU  things.  (Jer.  xviii,  9.)  And  therefore, 
without  a  constant  guard  upon  it,  we  shall 
insensibly  run  into  many  hurtful  self-decep- 
tions. To  which  I  may  add,  that  without 
this  careful  keeping  of  the  heart,  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  acquire  any  consid- 
erable degree  of  self-acquaintance  or  of 
self-government. 

2.  To  know  ourselves,  we    must  watch 
our  life  and  conduct,  as  well  as  our  hearts. 
And    by    this    the    heart    will    be    better 
known:  as  the  root  is  best  known   by  the 
fruit.     We  must  attend  to  the  nature  and 
consequences  of  every  action  we  are  dispo- 
sed or  solicited  to,  before  we  comply;  and 
consider  how  it  will  appear  in  a  future  re- 
view.    We  are  apt  enough  to  observe  and 
watch  the  conduct  of  others;  a  wise  man 
will   be  as  critical  and    severe    upon    his 
own.     For  indeed  we    have  a  great  deal 
more  to  do    with    our    own  conduct  than 
that  of  other  men;  as  we  are  to  answer 
for  our  own,  but  not  for  theirs.    By  observ- 
ing the    conduct    of  other  men,  we  know 
them;  by  carefully  observing  our  own,  we 
must  know  ourselves. 


188  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 


CHAP.  III. 

TVe  should  have  some  Resrard  to  the  Opin- 
ion of  others  concerning  us,  particularly 
of  our  Enemies. 

Would  we  know  ourselves,  we  should 
not  altogether  neglect  the  opinion  which 
others  may  entertain  concerning  us. 

Not  that  we  need  be  very  solicitous  a- 
bout  the  censures  or  applause  of  the 
world;  which  are  generally  very  rash  and 
wrong,  and  proceed  from  the  particular 
humours  and  prepossessions  of  men;  and 
he  that  knows  himself,  will  soon  know 
how  to  despise  them  both. — "The  judg- 
ment which  the  world  makes  of  us  is  gener- 
ally of  no  manner  of  use  to  us;  it  adds 
nothing  to  our  souls  or  bodies,  not  lessens 
any  of  our  miseries.  Let  us  constantly 
follow  reason,  (says  Montaigne)  and  let 
the  public  approbation  follow  us  the  same 
way,  if  it  please." 

But  still,  I  say,  a  total  indifference  in  this 
matter  is  unwise.  We  ought  not  to  be  en- 
tirely insensible  to  the  reports  of  others;  no, 
not  to  the  railings  of  an  enemy  ;  for  an  ene- 
my may  say  something  out  of  ill  will  to  us, 


15    TO    BE    ATTAhVED.  18§ 

which  it  may  concern  us  to  think  of  coolly 
when  we  are  by  ourselves;  to  examine 
wiicthcr  the  accusation  be  just,  and  what 
tliere  is  in  our  conduct  and  temper  which 
may  make  it  appear  so;  and  by  this  mean 
our  enemy  may  do  us  more  good  than  he 
intended,  and  discover  to  us  something  in 
our  hearts  which  wc  did  not  bef'.»re  advert 
to.  A  man  that  hath  no  enemies  oiiglu 
to  have  very  faithful  friends;  and  one  who 
hath  no  such  friends,  ought  to  liiink  it  no 
calamity  that  he  hath  -nemies  to  be  his  ef- 
fectual   monitors. '•  Our    friends    (says 

Mr.  Addison)  very  often  flatter  us  as 
much  as  our  own  hearts.  They  either  do 
not  see  our  faults,  or  conceal  them  from 
us;  or  soften  them  by  their  it-piesentations 
after  such  a  manner,  that  we  think  them 
too  trivial  to  be  taken  notice  of.  An  ad- 
versary, on  the  contrary,  makes  a  stricter 
search  into  us,  discovers  every  flaw  and 
imperfection  in  our  tempers;  and,  though 
his  malice  may  set  them  in  too  strong  a 
light,  it  has  generally  some  ground  for 
what  it  advances.  A  friend  exaggerates  a 
man's  virtues;  an  enemy  inflames  his 
crimes.  A  wise  man  should  give  a  just 
attention  to  both  of  them,  so  far  as  it  may 
tend  to  the  improvement  of  the  one,  and 
the  diminution  of  the  other.     Plutarch  has 


190  HOW    SELF-KKOWLEDGE 

written  an  essay  on  the  benefits  which  a 
man  may  receive  from  his  enemies:  an^  a- 
mong  the  good  fruits  of  enmity,  mentions  this 
in  particular,  that  by  the  reproaches  it  casts 
upon  us,  we  see  the  worst  side  of  our- 
selves, and  open  our  eyes  to  several  blemi- 
ishe-^  and  defects  in  our  lives  and  conver- 
sations, which  we  should  not  have  observ- 
ed without  the  help  of  such  ill-natured 
monitors. 

'•In  order,  likewise,  to  come  at  a  true 
knowledge  of  ourselves,  we  should  consider, 
on  the  other  hand,  how  far  we  may  deserve 
the  praises  and  approbations  which  the 
world  bestow  upon  us;  whether  the  ac- 
tions they  celebrate  proceed  from  lauda- 
ble and  worthy  moiives.  and  how  far  we 
are  really  possessed  of  the  virtues  which 
gain  us  applause  amongst  those  with  whom 
we  converse.  Sucii  a  reflection  is  absolute- 
ly necessary,  if  we  consider  how  apt  we 
are  either  to  value  or  condemn  ourselves 
by  the  opinions  of  others,  and  sacrifice 
the  report  of  our  own  hearts  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  world." 

In  that  treatise  of  Plutarch  here  refer- 
red to,  there  are  a  great  many  excellent 
things  pertinent  to  this  subject;  and  therefore 
I  thought  it  not  improper  to  throw  a  few 
extracts  out  of  it  into  the  margin.  [63] 


13    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  191 

It  is  tlie  character  of  a  dissolute  mind, 
to  be  entirely  insensible  to  all  that  the 
world  says  of  us;  and  shows  such  a  confi- 
dence of  self-knowledge  as  is  usually  a  sure 
sign  of  self-ignorance.  The  most  knowing 
minds  are  ever  least  presumi^tuous.  And 
true  self-knowledge  is  a  science  of  so  much 
depth  and  difficulty,  that  a  wise  man  would 
not  choose  to  be  over-confident  that  all  his 
notions  of  himself  are  right,  in  opposition  to 
the  judgment  of  all  mankind;  some  of 
whom  perhaps  have  better  opportunities 
and  advantages  of  knowing  him  (at  some 
seasons  especially)  then  he  has  of  know- 
ing himself.  Because  herein  they  never 
look  through  the  same  false  medium  of  self- 
flattery. 


CHAP.   IV. 

Frequent  Converge  with  Superiors  a  Help  to 
Sclf'KnowledifC. 

Another  proper  means  of  self-knowledge 
is  to  converse  as  much  as  you  can  with 
those  who  are  your  superiors  in  real  excel- 
lence. 

He  that  vvalkcth  with  wise  men  shall  be 


\M 


HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 


wise.  (Prov.  xiii.  20.)  Their  example  will 
not  only  be  your  motive  to  laudable  pur- 
suits, but  a  mirror  to  your  mind ;  by  which 
you  may  possibly  discern  some  failings  or 
deficiencies,  or  neglect  in  yourself,  which 
before  escaped  you.  You  will  see  the  un- 
reasonableness of  your  vanity  and  self-suf- 
ficiency, when  you  observe  how  much 
you  are  surpassed  by  others  in  knowledge 
and  goodness.  Their  proficiency  will  make 
your  defects  the  more  obvious  to  yourself; 
and  by  the  lustre  of  their  virtues  you  will 
better  see  the  deformity  of  your  vices; 
your  negligence  by  their  diligence;  your 
pride  by  their  humility ;  your  passion  by 
their  meekness;  and  your  folly  by  their 
wisdom. 

Examples  not  only  move,  but  teach  and 
direct  much  more  effectually  than  precepts; 
and  show  us  not  only  that  such  virtues 
may  be  practised,  but  how;  and  how  love- 
ly they  appear  when  they  are.  And  there- 
fore, if  we  cannot  have  them  always  before 
our  eyes,  we  should  endeavour  to  liave  them 
always  in  our  mind;  and  especially  that 
of  our  great  Head  and  Pattern,  who  hath 
Set  us  a  perfect  example  of  the  most  in- 
nocent conduct  under  the  worst  and  most 
disadvantageous  circumstances  of  human 
life.  [64] 


IS  to  BE  attaikb*-  ld3 


CHAP.  V. 

Of  cultivafhg  such  a    Temper  as  loiU  he  ilit 
best  Disposition  to  Self-Knowledge. 


If  a  man  would  know  himself,  he  must 
Nvith  great  care  cultivate  that  tempci 
which  will  hest  dispose  him  to  receive  this 
knowledge. 

Now,  as  there  are  no  greater  hind- 
rances to  self-knowledge  than  pride  and 
ohstinacy;  so  there  is  nothing  more  help- 
ful to  it  than  humility  and  an  openness  to 
conviction. 

1.  One  who  is  in  quest  of  self-knowl- 
edge, must  aljove  all  things  seek  humility. 
And  how  near  an  affinity  there  is  between 
these  two,  appears  from'hence,  that  they 
are  both  acquired  the  same  way.  The  ve- 
ry means  of  attaining  humility  are  the 
properest  means  for  attaining  self-acquaint- 
ance. By  keeping  an  eye  every  day  upon 
onr  faults  and  wants,  we  become  more 
humble,  and  by  the  same  means  we  be- 
come more  self-intelligent.  By  consider- 
ing how  far  we  fall  short  of  our  rule  and 
our  duty,  and  how  vastly  others  exceed  us, 
and  especially  by  a  daily  and  diJigent  stu- 

17 


194  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

dy  of  the  word  of  Got),  we  come  to  have 
meaner  thoughts  of  ourselves;  and  by  the 
very  same  means  we  come  to  have  a  bet- 
ter acquaintance  with  ourselves, 

A  proud  man  cannot  know  himself; 
Pride  is  that  beam  in  the  eye  of  the  mind, 
which  renders  him  quite  blind  to  any 
blemishes  there.  Hence  nothing  is  a  su- 
rer sign  of  self-ignorance  than  vanity  and 
ostentation. 

Indeed,  true  self-knowledge  and  humility 
are  so  necessarily  connected,  that  they 
depend  upon, and  mutually  beget  each  oth- 
er. A  man  that  knows  himself,  knows  the 
worst  of  himself,  and  therefore  cannot  but 
be  humble;  and  a  humble  mind  is  frequent- 
ly contemplating  its  own  faults  and  weak- 
nesses, which  greatly  improves  it  in  self- 
knowledge;  so  that  self-acquaintance 
makes  a  man  humble,  and  humility  gives 
him  still  a  better  acquaintance  with  him- 
self. 

2.  An  openness  to  conviction  is  no  less 
necessary  to  self-knowledge  than  humility. 

As  nothing  is  a  greater  bar  to  true 
knowledge  than  an  obstinate  stiffness  in 
opinion,  and  a  fear  to  depart  from  old  no- 
tions, which  (before  we  were  capable  of 
judging,  perhaps)  v/e  had  long  taken  up 
for  the  truth:  so  nothing  is  a  greater  bar 


IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED.  195 

to  self-knowl-edgc,  tlian  a  strong  aversion 
to  part  wilh  those  scntii\u;nts  of  ourselves 
which  we  have  been  blindly  aocustoined 
to,  and  to  think  worse  of  ourselves  than 
we  are  wont  to  do. 

And  such  an  unwillingness  to  retract  our 
sentiments  in  both  cases  proceeds  from  the 
same  cause,  viz.  a  reluctance  to  self-con- 
demnation. For  he  that  takes  up  a  new 
way  of  thinking,  contrary  to  that  which  he 
hath  long  received,  therein  condemns  him- 
self of  having  lived  in  an  error;  and  he 
that  begins  to  see  faults  in  himself  he  nev- 
er saw  before,  condemns  himself  of  hav- 
ing lived  in  ignorance  and  sin.  Now  this 
is  a  most  ungrateful  business,  and  what 
self-flattery  can  by  no  means  endure. 
I  But  such  an  inflexibility  of  judgment, 
and  hatred  of  conviction,  is  a  very  unhap- 
py and  hurtful  turn  of  mind.  And  a  man 
that  is  resolved  never  to  b(;  in  the  wrong, 
is  in  a  fair  way  never  to  be  in  the  right. 

As  infallibility  is  no  privilege  of  the  hu- 
man nature,  it  is  no  diminution  to  a  man's 
good  sense  or  judgment  to  be  found  in  an 
error,  provided  he  is  willing  to  retract  it. 
He  acts  with  the  same  freedom  find  liber- 
ty as  before,  whoever  be  his  monitor;  and 
it  is  his  own  good  sense  and  judgment  that 
still  guides  him;  which  shines  to  great  ad- 


196  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

vantage  in  thus  directing  him  against  the 
bias  of  vanity  and  opinion.  And  in  thus 
changing  his  sentiments,  he  only  acknowl- 
edges that  he  is  not  (what  no  man  ever 
was)  incapahle  of  being  mistaken.  In 
short,  it  is  more  merit,  and  an  argument  of 
a  more  excellent  mind,  for  a  man  freely  to 
retract  when  he  is  in  the  wrong,  than  to  he 
overbearing  and  positive  when  he  is  in  the 
right.  [65] 

A  man,  then,  must  be  willing  to  know 
himself,  before  he  can  known.  He  must 
open  his  eyes:  if  he  desires  to  see;  yield 
to  evidence  and  conviction,  though  it  be 
at  the  expense  of  his  judgment,  and  to  the 
mortification  of  his  vanity. 


CHAP.   VI. 

To  he   sensible   of  our   False  Knowledge,  a 
good  Step  to  Self-  Knowledge. 

Would  you  know  yourself,  take  heed 
and  guard  against  false  knowledge. 

See  that  the  light  that  is  within  you  be 
not  darkness;  tiiat  your  favourite  and 
leading  principles  be  right.  Search  your 
furniture,  and  consider  what  you  have  t© 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  197 

unlearn.  For  oftentimes  there  is  as  much 
wisdom  in  casting  off  some  knowledge 
which  we  have,  as  in  acquiring  that  which 
we  have  not.  Wiiich  pcrliaps  was  what 
made  Thcmistocles  reply,  when  one  offer- 
ed to  teach  him  the  art  of  memory,  that 
lie  had  much  rallier  he  would  teach  hiai 
the  art  of  forgetfulness. 

A  scholar  that  hath  been  all  his  life  col- 
lecting books,  will  find  in  his  library  at 
least  a  great  deal  of  rubbish.  And  as  iiis 
taste  alters,  and  his  judgment  improves,  he 
will  throw  out  a  great  many  as  trash  and 
lumber,  which,  it  may  be,  he  once  valued 
and  paid  dear  for;  and  replace  them  with 
such  as  are  more  solid  and  useful.  Just  so 
should  we  deal  with  our  understandings; 
look  over  the  furniture  of  the  mind  ;  separate 
the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  which  are  gen- 
erally received  into  it  together;  and  take 
as  mucii  pains  to  forget  what  wc  ought 
not  to  have  learned,  as  to  retain  what  we 
ought  not  to  forijet.  To  read  froth  and  tri- 
fles all  our  life,  is  the  way  always  to  retain 
a  llashy  and  juvenile  turn;  and  only  tu 
contemplate  our  fust  (which  is  generally 
our  worst)  knowledge,  cramps  the  progress 
of  the  understanding,  and  makes  our  self- 
survey  extremely  deficient.  In  short,  would 
we  improve  the  understanding  to  tlie  vaU 

17* 


198  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

liable  purposes  of  self-knowledge,  we  must 
take  as  much  care  what  books  we  read,  as 
what  companj'  we  keep. 

"The  pains  we  take  in  books  or  arts, 
which  treat  of  things  remote  from  the  use 
of  life,  is  a  busy  idlenesss.  If  1  study, 
(says  Montaigne)  it  is  for  no  other  science 
than  what  treats  of  the  knowledge  of  my- 
self, and  instructs  me  how  to  live  and  die 
well." 

It  is  a  comfortless  speculation,  and  a 
plain  proof  of  the  imperfection  of  the  hu- 
man understanding,  that,  upon  a  narrow 
scrutiny  into  our  furniture,  we  observe  a 
great  many  things  we  think  we  know,  but 
do  not;  and  many  which  we  do  know,  but 
ought  not;  that  a  good  deal  of  the  knowl- 
edge we  have  been  all  our  lives  collecting 
is  no  better  that  mere  ignorance,  and  some 
of  it  worse;  to  be  sensible  of  which  is 
a  very  necessary  step  to  self-acquaint- 
ance, 


19    TO    BE    ATTAlNEt).  199 


CHAP.  VII. 

Se/f- Inspection  peculiarly  necessary  tipon  soinc 
parlicular  Occasions. 

Would  you  know  yourself,  you  must  ve- 
ry ctuetully  attend  to  the  frame  and  enio- 
tions  of  your  mind  under  some  extraordina- 
ry incidents. 

Some  sudden  accidents  which  befal  you 
when  the  n\in(l  is  most  off  its  guard,  will 
better  discover  its  secret  turn  and  prevail- 
ing dis])OsiTioii,  than  much  greater  events 
you  are  prepared  to  meet.  e.g. 

1.  Consider  how  you  behave  under  any 
sudden  affronts  or  provocations  from  men. 
A  fi>o]'s  wrath  is  presently  known,  (Prov. 
xvii.  IG.)  i.  e.  a  fool  is  presently  known 
by  his  wrath. 

If  your  anser  be  soon  kindled,  it  is  a 
sign  that  secret  pride  lies  in  the  heurt; 
which,  like  gun-povvder,  takes  hre  at  eve- 
ry spark  of  provocation  that  lii'hts  upon 
it.  Tor  whatever  may  be  owing  to  ?»  na- 
tural temper,  it  is  certain  that  |)rid(>  is  the 
chief  cause  of  frecpient  and  wrathful  le- 
sentivunts.  For  pride  and  anger  arc;  as 
nearly  allied  as  huiuiiity    and    meekness. 


200  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEBGE 

Only  by  pride  cometh  contention.  (Prov, 
xiii.  10.)  And  a  man  would  not  know  what 
mud  lay  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  if 
provocation  did  not  stir  it  up. 

Athenodorus,  the  philosopher,  by  reason 
of  his  old  age,  begged  leave  to  retire  from 
the  court  of  Augustus,  which  the  emperor 
granted  him;  and  in  his  compliments  of 
leave,  "Remember,  (said  he)  Caesar,  when- 
ever you  are  angry,  you  say  or  do  noth- 
ing before  you  have  distinctly  repeated  to 
yourself  the  four  and  tw^enty  letters  of  the 
aljjhabet."  Whereupon  Caesar,  catching 
him  by  the  hand,  "1  have  need  (says  he)  of 
your  presence  still;"  and  kept  him  a  year 
longer.  This  is  celebrated  by  the  ancients 
as  a  rule  of  excellent  wisdom,  but  a  Chris- 
tian may  prescribe  to  himself  a  much  wis- 
er, viz.  "When  you  are  angry,  answer 
not  till  you  have  repeated  the  first  petition 
of  the  Lord's  prayer — Forgive  us  our  tres- 
passes, as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us;  and  our  Saviour's  comment  up- 
on it — For  if  ye  forgive  men  their  trespass- 
es, your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive 
you;  but  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their  tres- 
passes, neither  will  your  Father  forgive 
your  trespasses.     (Matt.  vi.   14.   15.) 

It  is  a  just  and  seasonable  thought,  that 
of  Marcus  Aatoninus,upoii  such  occasions 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  201 

— "A  man  misbel)aves  himself  lowaiHs  me 
— what  is  that  to  me?  The  action  is  his; 
and  the  will  that  sets  him  ij'on  it  is  his; 
and  therefore  let  him  look  tc  it.  Tne  fault 
and  injury  belong  '^  him,  not  to  me.  As 
for  me,  1  am  in  tiie  condition  Providence 
would  have  me,  and  am  doing  what  be- 
comes me." 

But,  after  all,  this  amounts  only  to  a 
philosophical  contempt  of  injuries;  and 
falls  much  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  Chris- 
tian forgiveness,  to  which  self-knowledge 
will  happily  disp.ise  us.  And  therefore,  in 
order  to  judge  of  our  improvements  therein, 
we  must  always  take  care  to  examine  and 
observe  in  what  manner  we  are  affected 
in  such  circumstances. 

2.  How  do  you  behave  under  a  severe 
and  unexpected  affliction  from  the  hand  of 
Providence?  which  is  another  circum- 
stance, wherein  we  have  a  fair  opportu- 
nity of  coming  to  a  right  knowledge  of 
ourselves. 

If  there  be  an  habitual  discontent  or  im- 
patience lurking  within  us,  this  will  draw 
it  forth,  especially  if  the  affliction  be  at- 
tended with  any  of  those  aggravating  cir- 
cumstances which  accumulated  that  of  Job. 
I  Afflictions  are  often  sent  with  this  intent, 
to  teach  us  to  know  ourselves;  and  there- 


*20£  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

fore  ought  to  be  carefully  improved  to  this 
purpose. 

And  much  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  our  heavenly  Father  is  seen  by  a  seri- 
ous and  attentive  mind,  not  only  in  propor- 
tioning the  degrees  of  his  corrections  to  his 
children's  strength,  but  in  adapting  the 
kinds  of  them  to  their  tempers;  afflicting 
one  in  one  way,  another  in  another,  accor- 
ding as  he  knows  they  are  most  easily 
wrought  upon,  and  as  will  be  most  for  their 
advantage.  By  which  means  a  small  afflic- 
tion of  one  kind  may  as  deeply  affect  us, 
and  be  of  more  advantage  to  us,  than  a 
much  greater  of  another. 

It  is  a  trite  but  true  observation,  that  a 
wise  man  receives  more  benefit  from  his 
enemies,  than  from  his  friends;  from  his 
afflictions,  than  from  his  mercies;  by 
which  means  his  enemies  become  in  effect 
his  best  friends,  and  his  afflictions  his 
greatest  mercies.  Certain  it  is,  that  a 
inan  never  has  an  opportunity  of  taking  a 
more  fair  and  undisguised  view  of  himself, 
than  in  these  circumstances.  And  there- 
fore, by  diligently  observing  in  what  man- 
ner he  is  affected  at  such  times,  he  may 
make  an  improvement  in  the  true  knowl- 
edge of  himself,  very  much  to  his  future 
advaatage,  though  perhaps  not  a  litttle  t^ 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED. 


2o3 


his  present  mortification.  For  a  sudden 
provocation  from  man,  or  a  severe  afflic- 
tion from  God,  may  detect  something  wliich 
lay  latent  and  undiscovered  so  long  at  the 
bottoiu  of  his  heart,  that  lie  never  once 
suspected  it  to  have  had  any  place  there. 
Thus  the  one  excited  wrath  in  the  meek- 
est man,  (Psalm  cvi.  33.)  and  the  oiher 
passion  in  t!ip  most  patient.  (Job.  iii.  3.) 

By  considering  tlien  in  what  manner  we 
bear  the  particidar  afflictions  God  is  pleas- 
ed to  allot  us,  and  what  berietit  we  receive 
from  them,  we  may  come  to  a  very  consid- 
erable acfpiaintance  with  ourselves. 

3.  What  is  our  usual  temper  and  dispo- 
sition in  a  time  of  peace,  prosperity,  and 
pleasure,  when  tiie  soul  is  generally  most 
uri?uarded. 

This  is  the  warm  season  that  nourishes 
and  impregnates  the  seeds  of  vanity,  self- 
confidence,  and  a  supercilious  contempt  of 
others.  If  there  be  such  a  root  of  bitter- 
ness in  the  heart,  it  will  be  very  apt  to 
shoot  forrh  in  the  sunshine  of  unintenupt; 
ed  prosperity  ;  even  after  the  frost  of  arlver- 
sity  had  nipped  it,  and,  as  we  thought,  kil- 
led it. 

Prosperity  is  a  trial,  as  well  as  adversi- 
ty; and  is  commonly  attended  with  more 
dangerous    temptations.     And    were     the 


204  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

mind  but  as  seriously  disposed  to  self-re° 
flection,  it  would  have  a  greater  advan- 
tage of  attaining  a  true  knowledge  of  it- 
self under  the  former  than  under  the  lat- 
ter. But  the  unhappiness  of  it  is,  the  mind 
is  seldom  rightly  turned  for  such  an  em- 
ployment under  those  circumstances.  It 
has  something  else  to  do;  has  the  concerns 
of  the  world  to  mind;  and  is  too  much  en- 
gaged by  the  things  without  it,  to  advert 
to  those  within:  and  is  more  disposed  to 
enjoy  than  examine  itself.  However,  it  is 
a  very  necessary  season  for  self-examin- 
ation, and  a  very  proper  time  to  acquire  a 
good  degree  of  self-acquaintance,  if  right- 
ly improved. 

Lastly:  How  do  we  behave  in  bad  com 
pany  ? 

And  that  is  to  be  reckoned  bad  compa- 
ny, in  which  there  is  no  probability  of  our 
doing  or  getting  any  good,  but  apparent 
danger  of  our  doing  or  getting  much  harm; 
1  mean,  our  giving  oftence  to  others,  by  an 
indiscreet  zeal,  or  incurring  guilt  to  our- 
selves, by  a  criminal  compliance. 

Are  we  carried  down  by  the  torrent  of 
vanity  and  vice?  Will  a  flash  of  wit,  or 
a  brilliant  fancy,  make  us  excuse  a  pro- 
fane    expression?     If  so,  we   shall  sooi 


IS    TO    BE    ATtPALNE*.  -205 

come  to  relish  it,  when  thus  seasoned,  and 
use  it  ourselves. 

This  is  a  time  when  our  zeal  and  wis- 
dom, ouV  fortitude  and  firmness,  are  gen- 
erally put  to  the  most  delicate  proof;  and 
when  we  may  too  often  take  notice  of  the 
unsuspected  escapes  of  folly,  fickleness, 
and  indiscretion. 

At  such  seasons  as  these,  then,  we  may 
often  discern  what  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts,  better  than  we  can  in  the  more 
even  and  customary  scenes  of  life,  when 
.the  passions  are  all  calm  and  still.  And 
therefore,  would  we  know  oruselves,  we 
should  be  very  nttentive  to  our  frame,  tem- 
per, disposition,  and  conduct,  upon  such  oc- 
casions. 


CHAP.  VIII. 

To  know  oursche<f^  we  must  wholely  abstract 
from  cxte  rnal  Appca  ranees. 

Would  you  know  yourself,  you,  must,  as 
far  as  possible,  get  above  the  influence  of 
exteriors,  or  a  mere  outward  show. 

A  man  is,  what  his  heart  is.  The  knowl- 
edge of  himself  is   the   knowledge  of  his 

18 


206  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

heart,  vvhicli  is  entirely  an  inward  thing; 
to  the  knowledge  of  which,  then,  outward 
things  (such  as  a  man's  condition  and 
state  in  the  world)  can  contribute  nothing;  . 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  is  too  often  a  great 
bar  and  hindrance  to  him  in  his  pursuit  of 
self-knowledge. 

1.  Are  your  circumstances  in  the  world 
easy  and  prosperous?  Take  care  you  do 
not  judge  of  yourself  too  favourably  on 
that  account. 

These  things  are  without  you,  and  there- 
fore can  never  be  the  measure  of  what  is. 
within;  and,  however  the  world  may  res- 
pect you  for  them,  they  do  not  in  the  least 
make  you  either  a  wiser  or  more  valuable 
man. 

In  forming  a  true  judgment  of  yourself, 
then,  you  must  entirely  set  aside  the  con- 
sideration of  your  estate  and  family;  your 
wit,  beauty,  genius,  health,  &.c.  which  are 
all  but  the  appendages  or  trappings  of 
a  man,  a  smooth  and  shining  varnish, 
which  mav  lacker  over  the  basest  metal. 
[66] 

A  man  may  be  a  good  and  a  happy 
man  without  these  things,  and  a  bad  and 
wretched  one  with  tiiem.  Nay,  he  may 
have  all  these,  and  be  the  worse  for  them. 
They  are  so  far  from   being  good  and   ex- 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  207 

cellcnt  in  themselves,  tliat  we  often  sec 
Providence  bestows  them  upon  tlie  vilest, 
of  men,  and  in  kindness  denies  them  to 
some  of  the  best.  They  are  oftentiines 
the  greatest  temptations,  and  put  a  man's 
faith  and  wisdojn  to  the  most  dangerous 
trial. 

2.  Is  vour  condition  in  life  mean  and  af- 
flicted?  Do  not  judge  the  worse  of  your- 
self for  not  having  those  external  axlyan- 
tages  which  others  have. 

None  will  think  the  worse  of  you  for 
the  want  of  them,  but  those  who  think  the 
better  of  themselves  for  having  them ;  in 
both  wiiich  they  show  a  very  depraved 
and  perverted  judgment.  These  arc  (ta 
ouk  eph  emin)  tilings  entirely  without  us, 
and  out  of  our  power;  for  which  a  man  is 
neither  the  better  nor  the  worse,  but  ac- 
cording as  he  uses  them;  and  therefore 
you  ought  to  be  as  indifferent  to  them  as 
they  are  to  you.  A  good  man  shines  ami- 
ably through  all  the  obscurity  of  his  low 
fortune;  and  a  wicked  man  is  a  poor  lit- 
tle wretch  in  the  midst  of  all  his  grandeur. 
[67] 

Were  we  to  follow  the  judgment  of  tlie 
world,  we  should  indeed  think  otherwise 
of  these  things,  ami  by  that  mistake  be 
led  into  a  wrong  notion  of  ourselves.     But 


208  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

we  have  a  better  rule  to  follow,  to  which 
if  we  adhere,  the  consideration  of  our  ex- 
ternal condition  in  life,  whatever  it  be,  will 
have  no  undue  influence  on  the  mind,  in  its, 
search  after  self-knowledge. 


CHAP.  IX 

'Vke  practice    of    Self" Knowledge    a    great 
JMcaris  to  promote  it. 

Let  all  your  self-knowledge  be  reduced 
into    ])ractice. 

The  right  improvement  of  that  knowl- 
edge we  have,  is  the  best  way  to  attain  more. 

The  great  end  of  self-knowledge  is  self- 
government;  without  which  (like  all  oth- 
er) it  is  but  a  useless  speculation.  And 
as  all  knowledge  is  valuable  in  proportion 
to  its  end,  so  this  is  the  most  excellent, 
only  because  the  practice  of  it  is  of  the 
most  extensive  use. 

"Above  all  ocher  subjects,  (says  an  an- 
cient, pious  writer)  study  thine  own  self.— 
For  no  knowledge  that  terminates  in  curi- 
osity or  speculation  is  comparable  to  that 
which  is  of  use;  and  of  all  useful  knowl- 
edge, that  is  most  so  which  consists  in  the 


IS    TO    EE    ATTAINED.  209 

due  care  and  just  notions  of  ourselves' 
This  study  is  a  debt  which  every  one  owes 
himself.  Let  us  not  then  be  so  lavish,  so 
unjust,  as  not  to  pay  this  debt;  by  spend- 
ing some  part,  at  least,  if  we  cannot  all,  or 
niost  of  our  time  and  care  upon  tliat 
which  has  the  most  indefeasible  claim  to 
it.  Govern  your  passions;  manage  your 
actions  with  prudence;  and  where  false 
steps  have  been  made,  correct  them  for 
the  future.  Let  nothing  be  allowed  to 
grow  headstrong  and  disorderly;  but  bring 
all  under  discipline.  Set  all  your  faults 
before  your  eyes;  and  pass  sentence  upon 
yourself  with  the  same  severity  as  you 
would  do  upon  another,  for  whom  no  par- 
tiality hath  biassed  your  judgment." 

What  will  our  most  exact  and  diligent 
self-researches  avail  us,  if,  after  all,  \vc 
sink  into  indolence  and  sloth?  Or,  what 
will  it  signify -to  be  convinced  that  there  is 
a  great  deal  amiss  in  our  deportments  and 
dispositions,  if  we  sit  still  contentedly  un- 
der that  conviction,  without  taking  one 
step  towards  a  reformation?  It  will  h\- 
deed  render  us  but  the  more  guilty  in  the 
sight  of  God.  And  how  sad  a  thing  will 
it  be  to  have  our  self-knowledge  hereafter 
rise  up  in  judgment  against  us-^ 

Examination  is    in   order  to   correction 

18* 


210  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

and  amendment.  We  abuse  it  and  our- 
selves, if  we  rest  in  the  duty,  without  look- 
ing farther.  We  are  to  review  our  daily 
walk,  that  we  may  reform  it ;  and,  conse- 
quently, a  daily  review  will  point  out  to  us 
the  subject  and  matter  of  our  future  daily 

care." "  This  day  (saith  the  Christian, 

upon  his  review  of  things  at  night)  I  lost 

so  much  time;  particularly  at 1  took 

too  great  a  liberty;   particularly  in 1 

omitted  such  an  opportunity,  that  might 
have  been  improved  to  better  purpose.  I 
mismanaged  such  a  duty. — 1  find  such  a 
corruption  often  working;  my  old  infirimity 

■ still  cleaves  to  me:  how    easily  doth 

sin  beset  me?  O,  may  1  be  more  atten- 
tive for  the  time  to  come,  more  watchful 
over  my  heart!    take    more  heed    to    my 

ways!    May  I  do  so  the    next    day." 

^'The  knowledge  of  a  distemper,  is  a  good 
step  toward  a  cure:  at  least  it  directs  to 
proper  methods  and  apj)lications  in  order 
to  it.  Self-acquaintance  leads  to  self-re- 
formation. He  that  at  the  close  of  each 
day  calls  over  what  is  past,  inspects  him- 
self, his  behaviour  and  mrinners.  will  not 
fall  into  that  security,  and  those  uncen- 
sured  follies  that  are  so  common  and  so 
ilangerous." 
And  it  may  not  be  improper,  in  order  to 


K    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  2TI 

make  US  sensible  of,  and  attentive  to,  some 
of  the  more  secret  faults  and  foibles  of  our 
tempers,  to  pen  them  down  at  night,  ac(;ord- 
ini<  as  they  appeared  durin;^  the  transac- 
tions of  the  day.  By  vvhicii  means,  we 
shall  not  only  have  a  more  distinct  view 
of  tiiat  part  of  our  character  to  which  we 
are  generally  most  blind;  but  shall  be  a- 
ble  to  discover  son»e  defects  and  blem- 
ishes in  it,  which  perhaps  we  never  ap- 
prehended before.  For  the  wiles  and  doub- 
lings of  the  heart  are  sometimes  so  hidden 
and  intricate,  that  it  requires  the  nicest  care 
and  most  steady  attention  to  detect  and 
unfold  them. 

For  instance:  "This  day  I  read  an 
author,  whose  sentimenst  were  very  differ- 
ent from  mine,  and  who  expressed  himself 
with  much  warinth  and  confidence.  It 
excited  my  spleen,  I  own,  and  1  immedi- 
ately passed  a  severe  censure  upon  him. 
So  that,  had  he  been  present,  and  talked  in 
the  same  strain,  my  ruffled  temper  would 
have  prompted  me  to  use  harsh  and  un- 
grateful lunguage,  which  miH,ht  have  occa- 
sioned a  very  unchristian  contention. — But 
I  now  recollect,  that  thoimh  the  author 
might  be  mistaken  in  tiiose  sentiments,  (as 
I  still  believe  he  \vas)  vet,  by  his  i)arlicu- 
lar  circumstances  in   life,  and  the  method 


212  MOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE] 

of  his  education,  he  has  been  strongly  led 
into  that  way  of  thinking.  So  that  his  pre- 
judice is  pardonable;  but  my  uncharita- 
bleness  is  not ;  especially,  considering  that 
in  many  respects  he  has  the  ascendant  of 
lYie. — This  proceeds  then  from  uncharita- 
bleness,  which  is  one  fault  of  my  temper 
I  have  to  watch  against;  and  which  [  nev- 
er was  before  so  sensible  of,  as  1  am  now 
upon  this  recollection.  Learn  more  mod- 
eration, and  make  more  allowances  for  the 
mistaken  opinions  of  others  for  the  future. 
Be  as  charitable  to  others  who  differ  from 
you,  as  you  desire  they  should  be  to  you, 
who  differ  as  much  from  them.  For  it  may 
be  you  cannot  be  more  assured  of  being  in 
the  right  than  they  are. 

Again:  this  day  I  found  myself  strong- 
ly inclined  to  put  in  something  by  way  of 
abatement  to  an  excellent  character  giv- 
en of  an  absent  person,  by  one  of  his  great 
admirers.  It  is  true.  I  had  the  command 
of  myself  to  hold  my  tongue,  and  it  is 
well  I  had.  for  the  ardour  of  his  zeal 
would  not  have  admitted  the  exception, 
(thou?;h  1  still  think  Unit  in  some  dei!;ree  it 
was  just)  which  might  have  raised  a 
wrnngling  debate  about  his  character,  per- 
haps at  the  expense  of  mv  ou  n ;  or.  how- 
ever, occasioned  much  animosity  and  con- 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  213 

tention. — But  I  have  since  examined  the 
secret  spring  of  tiiat  impulse,  and  find  it 
to  be  envy;  which  I  was  not  then  sensi- 
ble of;  but  my  antagonist  had  certainly 
imputed  it  to  tliis;  and  had  he  taken  the 
liberty  to  have  told  me  so,  I  much  ques- 
tion whetlier  I  should  have  had  the  tem- 
per of  the  philosopher;  who,  when  he  was 
really  injured,  being  asked  wMiether  he 
was  angry  or  not,  replied,  No;  but  I  am 
considering  with  mvself  wdiether  1  ouirlit 
not  to  be  so  i  d  .'ubt  1  sliould  not  have  had 
so  much  composure,  but  siiould  have  imme- 
diately resented  it  as  a  false  and  malicious 
aspersion:  But  it  was  certainly  envy,  and 
nothing  else;  for  the  person  who  was  the 
object  of  the  encomium  was  much  inv  su- 
perior in  many  respects.  And  the  excep- 
tion that  arose  to  my  mind  was  the  only 
flaw  in  his  character;  which  nothing  but 
a  quick-sighted  envy  could  descry.  Take 
heed  then  of  that  vice   for  the  future. 

Again:  this  day  I  was  much  surprised 
to  o!)serve  in  myself  the  symptoms  of  a 
vice,  which,  of  all  others,  1  ever  thought 
myself  most  clear  of,  and  have  aKvays  ex- 
press(id  the  greatest  detestation  of  in  oth- 
ers, and  that  is,covetousness.  For  what  else 
tould  it  be  that  proinpted  me  to  withhold 
my  charity  from  my  fello\y  creature  in  dis- 


214  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

tress,  on  pretence  that  he  was  not  in  eve- 
ry respect  a  proper  object;  or  to  dispense  , 
it  so  sparingly  to  another,  who  1  knew  was 
so,  on  pretence  of  having  lately  been  at  a 
considerable  expense  upon  another  occa- 
sion?    This    could   proceed    from   nothing 
else  but  a  latent  principle  of  covetousness ; 
which,  though  I  never  before  observed  in 
myself,  yet  it  is  likely  others   have.     O, 
how  inscrutable    are   the   depths   and   de- 
ceits of  the  human  heart!  Had  ray  enemy 
brought  against  me  a  charge  of  indolence, 
self-indulgence,  or  pride  and  impatience,  or 
a  too    quick  resentment  of  affronts  and  in- 
juries, my  own  heart  must  have  confirmed 
the    accusation,  and  forced    m~e  to    plead 
guilty.     Had  he  charged   me  with  bigotry, 
self-opinion,  and  censoriousness,  I   should 
have  thought  it  proceeded  from   the  same 
temper  injiimself,  having  rarely   observed 
any  thing  like  it  in  my  own.     But  had  he 
charged  .me   with   covetousness,   I   should 
have  taken  it  for  downright  calumny,  and 
despised  the  censure  with  indignation  and 
triumph.     And  yet,  after  all,  I  find  it  had 
been  but  too  true   a  charge.^ — O,  how  hard 
a  thing  is   it  to  know  myself! — This,  like 
all  other   knowledge,  the   more  I  have  of 
it,  the  more  sensible  I  am  of  my  want  ♦£ 
it." 


18  TO  BE  ATTA1NE».  215 

l^hc  difficulty  of  self-government  and 
seif-possession  arises  from  the  difficulty  of 
a  thorough  self-acquaintance,  which  is  ne- 
cessary to  it.  I  say,  a  thorough  self-ac- 
quaintance, such  as  has  been  already  set 
forth  in  its  several  branches.  (Part  I.)  For 
as  self-government  is  simply  impossible  (I 
mean  considered  as  a  virtue)  where  self- 
ignorance  prevails,  so  the  difficulty  of  it 
will  decrease  in  proportion  to  the  degree 
in  which  self-acquaintauce  improves. 

Many,  perhaps,  may  be  ready  to  think 
this  a  paradox;  and  imagine  that  they 
know  their  predominant  passions  and  foi- 
bles very  well,  but  still  find  it  extremely 
difficulty  to  correct  them.  But  let  them 
examine  this  point  again,  andperhaps  they 
may  find,  that  that  difficulty  arises  either 
from  their  defect  of  self-knowledge,  (for  it 
is  in  this,  as  in  other  kinds  of  knowledge, 
wherein  some  are  very  ready  to  think 
themselves  much  greater  proficients  th  in 
they  are)  or  else  from  their  neglect  to  put 
in  practice  that  degree  of  sell-knowledge 
they  have.  They  know  their  particular 
failings,  yet  will  not  guard  against  the  im- 
mediate temptations  to  them.  And  they 
are  often  betrayed  into  the  immediate  temp- 
tations wbich  overcome  them,  because 
they  are  ignorant  of,  or  do  not  guard    a- 


^16  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

gainst,  the  more  remote  temptations,  whicli 
lead  them  into  those  which  are  more  im- 
jnediate  and  dangerous,  which  may  not 
improperly  be  called  the  temptations  to 
temptations;  in  observing  and  guarding 
against  which,  consists  a  very  necessary 
part  of  self-knowledge,  and  the  great  art 
of  keeping  clear  of  danger,  which,  in  our 
present  state  of  frailty,  is  the  best  means 
of  keeping  clear  of  sin, 
\  To  correct  what  is  amiss,  and  to  improve 
what  is  good  in  us,  is  supposed  to  be  our 
hearty  desire,  and  the  great  end  of  all  our 
self-research.  But  if  we  do  not  endeavour 
after  this,  all  our  labour  after  self-knowl° 
edge  will  be  in  vain.  Nay,  if  we  do  not  en- 
deavour it,  we  cannot  be  said  heartily  to 
desire  it.  ''For  there  is  most  of  the  heart, 
where  there  is  fflTJst  of  the  will;  and  there 
is  most  of  the  will,  where  there  is  most  en- 
deavour; and  where  there  is  most  endeav- 
our, there  is  generally  most  sucess;  so  that 
endeavour  must  prove  the  truth  of  our  de- 
sire, and  success  will  generally  prove  the 
sincerity  of  our  endeavour."  This,  I  think, 
we  may  safely  say,  without  attributing  too 
•much  to  the  power  of  the  human  will,  con- 
sidering that  we  are  rational  and  free  a- 
gents,  and  considering  what  effectual  as- 
sistance is  offered  to  them  who  seek  it.  tu 


IS   TO   BE    ATTAINED.  -217 

rencler  their  endeavours  successfal,  if  they 
are  sincere;  which  introduces  the  subject 
of  the  following  chapter. 


CHAP.  X. 

Fervent  and  frequent  Prayer  the  most  ejfectii" 
al  Means  for  attaining  true  SclJ-Knowl- 
edge. 

The  last  means  to  self-knowledge  which 
I  shall  mention,  is  frequent  and  devout  ap- 
plications to  the  Fountain  of  Light,  and  the 
Father  of  our  spirits,  to  assist  us  in  this 
important  study,  and  give  us  the  true 
knowledge  of  ourselves. 

This  I  mention  last,  not  as  the  least,  but 
on  the  contrary,  as  the  greatest  and  best 
means  of  all,  to  attain  a  right  and  thor- 
ough knowledge  of  ourselves,  and  the  way 
to  render  all  the  rest  elTectual ;  and  there- 
fore, though  it  be  the  last  means  mention- 
ed, it  is  the  first  that  should  be  used. 

Would  we  know  ourselves,  we  must  of- 
ten converse  not  only  with  ourselves  in  me- 
diation, but  with  God  in  prayer;  in  the 
lowest  prostration   of  soul,  beseeching  the 

19 


218  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

Father  of  our  spirits  to  discover  them  to 
us;  in  whose  light  we  may  see  light,  where 
before  there  was  nothing  but  darkness;  to 
make  known  to  us  the  depth  and  devices 
of  our  heart.  For  without  the  grace  and 
influence  of  his  divine  illuminations  and  in- 
structions, our  hearts  will,  after  all  our 
care  and  pains  to  know  them,  most  cer- 
tainly deceive  us.  And  self-love  will  so 
prejudice  the  understanding,  as  to  keep  us 
still  in  self-ignorance. 

The  first  thing  we  are  to  do  in  order  to 
self-knowledge,  is,  to  assure  ourselves  that 
our  hearts  are  deceitful  above  all  things. 
And  the  next  is,  to  remember  that  the 
Lord  searcheth  the  hearts  and  trieth  the 
reins,  (Jer.  xvii.  10.)  /.  c.  that  He,  the  (Kar- 
diognostees)  Searcher  of  all  hearts,  (1. 
Chron.  xxviii.  9.)  hath  a  perfect  knowledge 
of  them,  deceitful  as  they  are;  which  con- 
sideration, as  it  suggesteth  to  us  the  strong- 
est motive  to  induce  us  to  labour  after  a 
true  knowledge  of  them  ourselves,  so  it 
directs  us  at  the  same  time  how  we  may 
attain  this  knowledge;  viz.  by  an  humble 
and  importunate  application  to  Plim,  to 
whom  alone  they  are  known,  to  make  them 
known  to  us.  And  this,  by  the  free  and 
near  access  which  his  Holy  Spirit  hath  t© 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  2l9 

our  spirits,  Tie  can  effectually  do  various 
ways;  viz.  by  fixing  our  attentions;  by 
qnickening  our  apprehensions;  renioviiip; 
our  prejudices,  (which,  like  a  false  medi- 
um before  the  eye  of  the  mind,  prevents 
its  seeing  things  in  a  just  and  proper 
light;)  by  mortifying  our  pride,  strength- 
ening the  intellective  and  r^^tlecting  facul- 
ties, and  enforcing  upon  the  nnnd  a  lively 
sense  and  knowledge  of  its  greatest  hap- 
piness atul  duty;  and  so  awakening  the 
soul  from  that  carnal  security  and  indiffer- 
ence about  its  best  interests,  into  which  a 
too  serious  attention  to  the  world  is  apt  to 
betray  it. 

Besides,  prayer  is  a  very  proper  expedi- 
ent for  attaining  self-knowledge,  as  the 
actual  engagement  of  the  mind  in  this  de- 
votional exercise  is  in  itself  a  great  help 
to  it.  For  the  mind  is  never  in  a  better 
frame,  than  when  it  is  intently  and  devout- 
ly euDjaged  in  this  duty:  it  has  then  the  liest 
apprehensions  of  God,  the  truest  notions  of 
itself,  and  the  justest  sentiments  of  earth- 
ly things;  the  clearest  concej)tions  of  its 
own  weakness,  and  the  deepest  sense  of 
its  own  vileness;  and,  consequently,  is  in 
the  l)est  dispisition  that  can  be  to  receive 
SI  true  and  right  knowledge  of  itself. 


220  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

And  O!  could  we  but  always  think  of 
ourselves  in  such  a  manner,  or  could  we 
but  always  be  in  a  disposition  to  think  of 
ourselves  in  such  a  manner,  as  we  sometimes 
do  in  the  fervour  of  our  humiliations  bffore 
the  throne  of  grace,  how  great  a  progi'^ss 
should  we  soon  make  in  this  important 
science?  Which  evidently  shows  the  ne- 
cessity of  such  devout  and  humble  engage- 
ments o^tlie  soul,  and  how  happy  a  means 
they  are  to  attain  a  just  self-acquaint- 
ance. 

AND  NOW,  reader,  whoever  thou  art, 
that  hast  taken  the  pains  to  peruse  these 
sheets,  whatever  be  thy  circumstances  or 
condition  in  the  world,  whatever  thy  capa- 
city or  understanding,  whatever  thy  occu- 
pations and  engagements,  whatever  thy 
favourite  sentiments  and  principles,  or 
whatever  religious  sect  or  party  thou  es- 
pousest,  know  for  certain,  that  thou  hast 
been  deeply  interested  in  what  thou  hast 
been  reading;  whether  thou  hast  attended 
to  it  or  not.  For  it  is  of  no  less  concern 
to  thee  than  the  security  of  thy  peace 
and  usefulness  in  this  world,  and  thy  happi- 
ness in  another;  and  relates  to  all  thy  in- 
terests, both  as  a   man    and  a  Christian. 


IS    TO    BE    ATTAINED.  221 

'    Perhaps  thou   bast  seen  something;  of 
thine  own    iniage   in    the    glass    that   has 
now  been  held  up  to  thee.     And  wilt  thou 
go    away,  and  soon  forget   what    manner 

of    person     thou     art? Perhaps    thou 

hast  met  with  some  things  thou  dost  not 
well  understand  or  approve.  But  shall 
that  take  off  thine  attention  from  those 
things  thou   dost    understand   or  approve, 

and  art  convinced  of  the  necessity  of? 

If  thou  hast  received  no  improvement,  no 
benefit,  from  this  plain  practical  treatise 
thou  hast  now  perused,  read  it  over  again. 
The  same  thought,  you  know,  often  im- 
presses one  more  at  one  time  than  anoth- 
er. And  we  sometimes  receive  more 
knowledge  and  profit  by  the  second  peru- 
sal of  a  book  than  by  the  first.  And  1 
would  fain  hope  that  thou  wilt  find  some- 
thing in  this  that  may  set  thy  thoughts  on 
work,  and  N\hich,  by  the  blessing  of  God, 
may  make  thee  more  observant  of  thy 
heart  and  conduct;  and,  inconsequence  of 
that,  a  more  solid,  serious,  wise,  establish- 
ed Christian. 

But  will  you,  after  all,  deal  by  this  book 
you  have  now  read,  as  you  have  dealt  by 
many  sermons  you  have  lieard?  Pass 
your  judgmcut  upon  it  according  to  yoiir 

19* 


222  HOW    SELF-KNOWLEDGE 

received  and  established  set  of  notions; 
and  condemn  or  applaud  it,  only  as  it  is 
agreeable  or  disagreeable  to  them;  and 
commend  or  censure  it,  only  as  it  suits  or 
does  not  suit  your  particular  taste; 
without  attending  to  the  real  weight,  im- 
portance, and  necessity  of  the  subject,  ab- 
tracted  from  those  views?  Or  will  you  be 
barely  content  with  the  entertainment 
and  satisfaction,  which  some  parts  of  it 
may  possibly  have  given  you;  assent 
to  the  importance  of  the  subject,  the  just- 
ness of  the  sentiment,  or  the  propriety  of 
some  of  the  observations  you  have  been 
reading;  and  so  dismiss  all,  without  any 
further  concern  about  the  matter?  Believe 
it,  O  Christian  reader,  if  this  be  all  the  ad- 
vantage you  gain  by  it,  it  were  scarce 
worth  while  to  have  confined  yourself  so 
long  to  the  perusal  of  it.  It  has  aimed,  it  has 
sincerely  aimed,  to  do  you  a  much  greater 
"benefit;  to  bring  you  to  a  better  acquaint- 
ance with  one  you  express  a  particular  re- 
gard for,  and  who  is  capable  of  being  the 
best  friend,  or  the  worst  enemy,  you  hare 
in  the  world ;  and  that  is,  yourself. — It  was 
designed  to  convince  you,  that  would  you 
live  and  act  consistently,  either  as  a  man, 
tr  a  Christian,  you  must  -know  yourself; 


18  Te  BE   ATTAINED.  223 

and  to  persuade  you  under  the  influence  of 
the  foregoini:;  iTKUives,  and  by  the  help  of 
the  forernentioned  directions,  to  make  self- 
knowledg*^  the  great  study,  and  self-gov- 
ernment the  great  business  of  your  life.  In 
which  resolution  may  Almighty  God  con- 
firm you;  and  in  which  great  business 
may  his  grace  assist  you,  against  all  fu- 
ture discouragements  and  distractions. 
With  him  I  leave  the  success  of  the, 
whole;  to  whom  be  glory  and  praise  for- 
ever. 


NOTES. 


[1]  Thales  was  the  prince  of  the  philosophers, 
and  flovirished  about  A.  M.  3330,  and  was  con- 
temporary with  Josiah,  kingof  Judah. 

[2]  Spurn    what   thoii  canst  riot  claim:  the  flat- 
terer'^ dross 
Throwback:  and  learn  how  little  is  thy  own. 

H'ok  not  thyself  without. 

Coijs.ilt  thyself,   thyself  tell  what  ihou  art. 
Shake  thy  own  powers,  and  prove  thee. 
True  warfare  is  to  cope  with  our  vices. 
Think  not  that  the   precept,  Kaoio  thyself,  was 
meant  merely  to    lessen   pride;  but   also   that  we 
might  become  acquainted  with  our  virtues. 

That  should  be  a  man's  chief  pursuit  which 
chiefly  belongs  to  him.  Let  him  therefore  study 
his  own  disposition,  a.id  become  an  inflexible  judge 
of  his  own  virtues  and  vices. 

Let  us  penetrate  inio  the  nature  of  things,  and 
that  thoroughly:  let  us  scrutinize  what  it  de- 
mands. It  is  otherwise  impossible  for  us  to  know 
ourselves. 

[3]  True  philosophy,  as  it  teaches  us  every  thing 
else,  teaches  us  also  that  most  dillicult  of  sciences, 
a  knowledge  of  ourselves.  The  precept  to  this 
effect  contains  in  it  so  much  weight  and  wisdom 


226 


NOTES    T© 


as  not  to  be  ascribed  to  any  human  being,  but  to  the 
Delr)hic  Divinity. 

VVnich  precept,  as  being  beyond  the  scope  of 
human  invention,  has  been  attributed  to  God:  for 
the  Pjtuian  Apollo  commands  us  '-to  know  our- 
selves." 

[4]  That  our  translators  have  hit  upon  the  true 
sense  of  the  world  here,  in  rendering  it jaroue  your- 
selves, is  aj)pare..t  not  only  from  the  word  imme- 
diately preceding',  which  is  of  the  same  import, 
bnt  because  self  probation  is  always  necessary  to 
a  rig'it  s'^lf-approbation. 

"Everv  Christian  ought  to  try  himself,  and  may 
know  him>elf,  if  he  be  faithful  in  examining. — ' 
Tiie  frequent  exhortations  in  scripture  hereunto, 
innply  liotb  these,  viz.  that  the  knowledge  of  our- 
selves is  attainable,  and  that  we  should  endeavour 
after  it.  Why  should  the  Apostle  put  them  upon 
examining  and  proving  themselves,  unless  it  was 
possible  to  know  themselves  upon  such  trying  and 
proving?" — BenneCs  Christ.   Oratory^  p.   568. 

[5]  The  verb  properly  signifies  to  glean,  or  gath- 
er together  scattered  sticks  or  straws;  as  appears 
fr  )m  all  the  places  where  the  word  is  used  in  the 
Old  Testament.  (Exud.  v.  7.  12.— Numb.  xv.  32. 
— 1  Kings  xvii.  lO.)  Hence,  by  an  easy  metaphor, 
It  signifies  to  recollect,  or  gather  the  scattered 
thoughts  together;  and  ought  to  be  so  rendered, 
when  used  in  the  reflected  form,  as  here  it  is. 

[6]  Clemens  Alexandrinus  saith,  that  Moses,  by 
that  phrase,  so  common  in  his  writings,  "Take 
heed  to  thyself,"  (Exod.  x.  28.— xxxiv.  12.— Deut. 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE  227 

iv.  9.)  means  the  same  th'iw^  as  the  ancienl-5  did 
by  the  precept,  "Know  thyselt." — — Strom,  lib.  ii. 
chap.  15. 

[7]  "There  is  nothing  men  are  more  deficient 
in,  than  Ui:o\ving  llieif  own  characters.  I  know 
not  !t  'vv  this  scieiiCc  comes  to  he  so  much  neglect- 
ed. V^'^e  spend  a  {<,reat  deal  of  time  in  leari'ing 
usfriesif*  'hiiigs,  bui  take  no  pains  in  the  stud^  of 
©ui\selves,  aiid  lit  opening  the  folds  and  doubles 
of  the  heart." — Tiijleclions  on  Ridicule^  p.  61, 

[8]  The  precept  of  Apollo,  which  teaches  that 
every  .-r>v  should  know  himself,  does  not  teach,  aa 
I  conceive,  that  we  should  he  acquainted  with  our 
own  members,  our  stature,  or  our  form.  T'le 
body  does  not  constitute  the  man;  nor  do  I,  wi.ile 
saying  this  to  thee,*  say  it  to  thy  body.  When, 
therefore,  he  says  linow  thyself,  he  says  Knoxo  thy 
soul;  for  the  body  is  hut,  as  it  were,  the  vesfel  or 
receptacle  of  the  soul:  whatever  is  done  by  thy 
soul,  that  is  done  by  lliyself. 

[9]  When  you  talk  of  a  man,  I  would  not  have 
von  tack  flesh  and  blood  to  the  notion,  nor  those 
limbs  neither  which  arc  made  out  of  it:  these  are 
but  tools  for  the  soul  to  woik  with;  ajid  no  more 
a  part  of  a  man,  then  an  axe  or  a  plane  is  a  piece 
of  a  carpenter.  It  is  true,  Nature  hath  glued  them 
together,  and  they  grow  as  it  were  to  the  soul,  and 
there  is  all  the  dilference. — Collier. 

[10]  'Tis  virtue  only  makes  our  bliss  below. 
And  all  our  knowledue  is  ourselves  to  /cnovn 

Poj)c's  Essay  on  Man. 


^23  KOTES    ON 

[11]  This  doctrine,  I  think,   is  established  be^ 
yond  all  dispute,  not  only    by   experience,  but  by 
authority.     It  was   received  by  ahnost  all  the  an- 
cient philosophers.    The  Pythagoreans,  as  we  learn 
from  Janfiblicus,    vid.     Proinpt.  p.   34,  35.     The 
platonists,  as  appear?  from   Nemesius,  Sallust,  and 
Laertius,  vid.  Dion  Laertius,  lib.  iii.  p.  219.     The 
Stoics,  as  appears  from    A.itoninus;  who  saith  ex- 
pressly, "There  are  three  thit  ijs  which  belong  to 
a  man;  the    body,  soul,  and  the  mind.     And  as  to 
the    properties  of  the   division,  sensatioir  belongs 
to   the   body,   appetite   to   the   soul,  and  reason  to 
the  mind."    It  appears  also  to  have  been  the  opin- 
ion  of  most   of  the   Fathers,  vid.  Irenceus.  lib.  v. 
cap.  9.    lib.    ii.  cap.  33.  ed.    Par. — Clem.  Alex. 
Str.   3.  p.  642.  ed.  Oxon. — Origen.    Philocal.    p. 
8. — Ignat,  Ep.  ad  Philadelph.  ad  calcem.    See  al- 
so, Josr-ph.  Antiq.  lib.  i.  cap.   2.  p.   5. — Constitut. 
Apostol.  lib.  vii.  cap.   34. — But  above  all  these,  is 
the    authority   of    Scripture,   which,  speaking  of 
the  original  formation   of  man,  mentions  the  three 
distinct  parts  of  his  nature.     Gen.  ii.  7.  viz.   the 
dust  of  the  earth,  or   the  body;  the  living  soul,  or 
the.  animal   and  sensitive    part;  and  the    breath  of 
life,  i.  e.  the  spirit,  or  rational  mind.     In  like  man- 
ner the  Apostle  Paul   divides   the   whole  man  into 
the  spirit,  the  soul,  and  the  body  (1  Tlies.  v.   23.) 
— Tliey  who  would  see  more  of  this  may  consult 
■JVemesius  de  JYatiira  Hominis,  cap.  i.  and  Whistoiis 
Prim.  Christ,  vol.  iv.  p.  262. 

All  the  observation  I  shall  make  hereupon  is, 
that  this  consideration  may  serve  to  soften  the  pre- 
judices of  some  against  the  account  which  scrip- 
ture gives  of  the  mysterious  manner  of  the  subsist- 
ence   of  the  divine  nature;  of  which   every  man, 


self-knowli:dgl  22§ 

tts  created  in  the  image  of  God,  carries  about  him 
a  kind  of  emblem,  in  ihe  threefold  distinctions  of 
his  own;  which,  if  he  did  not  every  minuie  (ind  it 
by  experience  to  be  (act,  would  dout>ile^s  appear  to 
him  every  whit  as  m}sterious  aed  incomprehensi- 
ble as  the  scripture  doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 

"Man  consists  of  three  parts;  spirit,  soul,  and 
body;  and  hence,  man  is  an  image  of  the  Holy 
Trinity." 

[12]  As  Nature  delights  in  the  most  easy  tran- 
isitions  from  one  cla*s  of  beings  to  another,  and  as 
the  nexHft  iilriusque  generis  is  observahle  in  several 
creatures  of  iimhiguous  nature,  wliich  seem  to  con- 
nect the  lifeless  and  vegetable,  the  vegetable  and 
animal,  (he  animjil  and  rational  worlds  togeiner; 
(see  J\^rmesius  de  A'.l.  Uo/a.  cap.  i.  p.  6.)  wiiy 
may  not  the  souls  of  brutes  be  considered  as  ilic 
nexM5  between  material  and  immaterial  substances, 
or  njatter  and  spirit,  or  somelhing  between  b-uli? 
Ttie  great  dissimilitude  oi  iiaiure,  in  these  two 
substances,  1  apprehend,  can  be  no  solid  objection 
to  this  hypothesi>,  if  we  consider  (beside  our  own 
ignorance  of  tlie  nature  of  spiiii>,j  b  it  how  near 
ly  th(;y  approach  in  other  instances,  and  how  close- 
ly tiiey  are  united  in  man. 

[13J  It  is  said,  when  the  prince  of  the  Latin 
poets  was  asked  l)y  liis  (Viend,  why  he  studied  so 
mucii  accuracy  in  toe  plan  of  his  poem,  (lie  pro- 
priety of  his  characters,  and  the  purity  of  his  dic- 
tion; he  replie<i.  In  (tlernuni  pingo^  1  am  wri(ing 
for  o(ernity.  What  ni  »re  weighty  consitUration  to 
justify  and  enforce  liie    utmosl  viuilauce  and  cir- 

20 


230  NOTES    ON 

cumspection  of  life,  than  this:'  In  ceternum  vivo^  I 
am  Jiving  for  eternity  ? 

[14]  I  am  too  noble,  and  of  too  high  a  birth, 
(saith  Seneca,  that  excellent  moralist)  to  be  a 
slave  to  my  body;  which  1  look  upon  only  as  a 
chain  thrown  upon  the  liberty  of  my  soul. 

[15]  As  it  is  not  the  design  of  this  treatise  to 
enter  into  a  nice  and  philosophical  disquisition 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  human  soul,  but  to 
awaken  men's  attention  to  the  inward  operations 
and  affections  of  it,  (which  is  by  far  the  most  ne- 
cessary part  of  self  knowledge,)  so  they  who  would 
be  more  particulary  informed  concering  its  nature 
and  original,  and  the  various  opinions  of  the  an- 
cients about  it,  may  consult  A'enies  de  JVo/.  Horn. 
cap.  i.  and  a  treatise  called  The  Government  of 
the  Thoughts,  chap.  i.  and  Chambers's  Cyclopoeaia, 
under  the  word  -SV;m/. 

[16]  "Thou  must  expire,  my  soul,  ordain'd  ^ 
to  range  | 

"Through  unexperienc'd  scenes  and  mys-         ^ 
teries  strange;  | 

"Dark  the  event,  and  dismal  the  exchange.     J 
"But  when  compeird  to  leave  this  house  of  clay, 
"Aiid  to  an  unknown  somewhere  wing  thy  way; 
"When  time  shall  be   eternity,  and  thou  ^ 

"Shalt  be  thou  know'st  not  what,  nor  where,     | 
nor  how,  )> 

"Trembling  and  pale,  what  wilt  thou  say  or     j 
do?  J 

"Amazing  state! — No  wonder    that  we  dread 
"The  thoughts  of  death,  cr  faces  of  the  dead. 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  231 

"His  l)Iack  retinue  sorely  strikes  our  mind; 

"Sickness  and  pain   beiore,  and  darkness  all  be- 
hind. 
"Some    courteous  ^host,  the  secret  then  revealt 

"T*;!!  us  what  you  have  felt,  and  we  mu3l  feel. 

"You  warn  us  of  approachinin;  death,  and   why 

"Will  you  not  teach  us   what  it  is  to  die? 

"But  having  shot  the  gulf,  you  love  to  view 

"Succeeding  spirits  plung'd   along  like  you; 

"Nor  lend  a  friendly  hand  to  guide  them 
through. 
"When  dire  disease  shall  cut,  or  age  untie 

"The  knot  of  life,  and  sufFer   us  to  die; 

"When  after  some  delay,  some  trembling  strife, 

"The  soul  stands  quiv'ring  on  the  ridge  of  life; 

"With   fear  and   hope    she  throbs,  then  curious 
tries 

"Some  strange  hcreaOer  and  some  hid(Jen  skies." 

[Altered  from  the  irregular  verse  of  Norris,  by  the  Au- 
thor of  the  present  Treatise Editor.] 

[17]   A  fatal  inbred  strife  lurks  deep  within, 
The  cause  of  all  this  misery  and  sin. 

[18]  Life  is  a  slagc-pla}';  it  matters  not  how 
long  we  act,  so  wc  act  well. 

It  is  not  life,  but  living  well,  that  is  the  bles- 
sing. 

[19]    Prove  the  full   standard  of  thy  power,  the 
weight 
Thy  soul  can  bear,  in  little  or  in  great. 
ife  that  takes  up  a  burrhMi  that  is  too  heavy  for 
him,  is  in  a  fair  way  to  break  his  back. 

In  every  business,  consider,  lirist,  what  it  is  yoft 


232  NOTES    TO 

are  about;  and  then    your  own  ability,  whether  it 
be  sufficient  to  carry  you  through  it. 

[20] we  cannot  all  do  all  thinjjs. 

Cacijius,  a  famous  rhetoiician  of  Sicily,  who 
Jived  in  the  time  of  Augustus,  and  wrote  a  trea- 
tise on  (he  Sublime,  (which  is  censured  by  Longi- 
nus  in  the  begin  iiig  of  his,)  was  a  man  of  a  hasty  and 
enterprising  spirit,  and  very  apt  to  overshoot  liim- 
self  on  all  occasions;  and  particularly  ventured 
far  out  of  his  depth  in  his  comparison  of  Demos- 
thenes and  Cicero.  Whereupon  Plutarcli  makes 
this  sage  and  candid  remark:  "If,"'  saith  he,  "it 
was  a  thing  obvious  and  easy  for  every  man  to 
kn«)w  himself,  pos5i()ly  that  saying,  Khow  thyself, 
had  not  passed  for  a  divine  oracle.'"— P/u/.  Liv* 
vol.  vii.  p.  347. 

[21]  Men,  with  regard  to  their  bodies  and  bod- 
ily appetites,  are  pretty  much  alike;  but,  with  re- 
gard to  their  souls,  their  mental  tastes  and  disposi- 
tions, they  are  often  as  different  as  if  they  were 
quite  of  another  species;  governed  by  diiferent 
views,  entertained  with  different  pleasures,  anima- 
ted with  different  hopes,  and  affected  by  different 
motives,  and  distinguished  by  as  different  tempers 
and  inclinations,  as  if  they  were  not  of  the  same 
kind.  So  that  \  am  very  ready  to  believe,  that 
there  is  not  a  greater  difference  between  an  angel, 
aiid  some  of  tlie  best  and  wisest  of  men;  or  be- 
tween a  devil  and  some  of  the  worst  and  wicked- 
est of  men,  with  regard  to  their  tempers  and  dis- 
positions, than  there  is  between  some  sort  of  men 
and  some  others.  And  what  inclines  me  to  this 
sentiment  is,  considering  the  easy  transition  which 


SELF-KNOWLEBGE*  233 

nature  always  observes  in  passing  from  one  order 
or  kind  of  beings  to  anotlicr,  (which  I  have  before 
taken  notice  of,)  together  with  the  prodigious  dif- 
ference there  appears  to  be  between  some  and 
others  of  the  human  species,  almost  in  every  thing 
belonging  to  their  souls.  For  some  there  are  "ia 
whom,"  as  one  expresses  it,  "one  would  think  na- 
ture had  placed  every  thing  the  wrong  way;"  de- 
praved in  their  opinions,  unintelligible  in  their  rea- 
sonings, irregular  in  their  actions,  and  vicious  in  ev- 
ery disposition.  Whilst  in  somi;  others  we  see  al- 
most every  thing  amiable  and  excellenl,  that  can 
addrn  and  exalt  the  human  mind,  under  the  dis- 
advantages of  mortality. 

[2-2]  Who   could   hear  Gracchus    censure  civil 
broils? 
Clodins,  adulterers?  Catalino,  Celhegus 
In  guilt  his  equal? 

[23]  O  grievous  sfraiti  If  I  look  into  myself,  I 
cannot  endure  myself:  if  I  look  not  into  myself,  I 
cannot  know  myscll".  If  I  consider  myself,  my 
own  face  atlViglits  me:  if  1  consider  not  myself, 
my  damnation  t'oilows  me.  If  I  see  myself,  my 
horror  is  intolerable:  if  I  see  not  myself,  death  is 
unavoidable. 

[24]  The  knowledge  of  sin  is  the  first  step  to- 
wards amendment:  for  he  that  doth  not  know  he 
hath  otfet^ded,  is  not  v\iHing  to  be  reproved.  You 
must  therefore  tuid  out  yourself,  before  you  can 
amend  yourself.  Some  glory  in  their  vices:  And 
do  you  imagine  they  have  any  thoughts  about  re- 
forming, who  place  their  very  vices  in  the  room  of 

20* 


234  NOTES    0N 

virtues?  Therefore  reprove  thysaelf:  search  thy- 
self very  narrowly.  First  turn  accuser  to  thyself, 
then  a  judge,  and  then  a  suppliatit.  And  dare  for 
once  to  displease  thyself. 

[25]  It  is  a  good  argument  of  a  refornned  mind, 
that  it  sees  those  vices  in  itself,  which  it  was  be- 
fore ignorant  of. 

A  man's  predominant  sin  visually  arises  out  of 
his  predominant  passion;  which,  therefore,  he 
should  diligently  observe.  The  nature  and  force 
of  which  is  beautifully  described  by  a  late  great 
master  of  English  verse. 

"On  different  senses  different  objects  strike; 
"Hence  ditferent  passions  more  or  less  inflame, 
"As  strong  or  weak  the  organs  of  the  frame:      . 
"And  hence  one  master-passion  in  the  breast, 
"Like  Aaron's  serpent,  swallows  up  the  rest. 

"Nature  its  mother,  habit  is  its  nurse; 
"Wit,  spirit,  faculties,  but  make  it  worse; 
"Reason  itself  but  gives  it  edge  and  power, 
"As    heaven's    blest   beam  turns   vinegar    more 
sour. 

"Ah !  if  she  lend  not  arms  as  well  as  rules, 
"What  ran  she  more  than  tell  us  we  are  fools? 
"Teach  us  to  mourn  o"ir  nature,  not  to  mend; 
"A  sharp  accuser,  but  a  helpless  friend?'' 

Pope''s  Essay  on  Man. 

|26]     Resist  in  time;    all  medicine    is  but  play, 
When  the  disease  is  strengthened  by  de- 
lay. 


aELP-KNOWLED«B.  23§ 

r27]     The    palh    alarms    me;     'tis   a     fearful 
bourne: 
All  seek  thy  visage,  but  none  e'er  return. 
Easy  the  entrance  to  the  realms  below; 
By  night,  by  day,  lie  ope  the  doors  of  woe; 
But  to  wind  back,  and  bieaihe,  the  balmy  air^ 
Tt)is  is  the  task;  a   labour  who  can  dare? 

[28]  For  every  trifle  scorn  to  take  oirence ; 
That  always  shows  great  pride,  or  little 

sense. 
Good  nature  and  good  sense  must  always 

join; 
To  err  is  human,  to  forgive  divine Pope. 

[29]  A  man  despises  me:  what  then?  Did  he 
know  me  more,  he  would  perhaps  despise  me 
more.  But  I  know  myself  better  than  he  can 
know  me;  and  therefore  despise  myself  more:  and 
though  his  contempt  in  this  instance  may  be 
groundless,  yet  in  others  it  would  be  but  too 
well  founded.  I  will  therefore  not  only  bear  with, 
but  forgive  it. — Contemnendus  est  iste  contcmplus : 
This  contempt  is  itself  to  be  contemned,  saith 
Seneca.  ^But  such  retorted  scorn  is  more  becom- 
ino-  the  character  of  a  Stoic  than  a  Christian. 

It  has  been  reckoned  a  wise  and  willy  ans.ver 
which  one  of  the  philosophers  returned  to  his 
friend,  who  advised  him  to  revenge  an  injury  that 
had  been  done  him:  ''VVlial,"  says  he,  ''if  an  ass 
kicks  me,  must  I  needs  kick  him  again!"  And 
perhaps  there  is  more  wit  than  wisdom  in  that  re- 
ply. It  seems  indeed  to  carry  in  it  something  of 
a  true  greatness  of  mind;  but  does  it  not,  at   the 


236  ^OTES  ON 

same  time,  discover  a  kind  of  haughty  and  com- 
temptuous  spirit?  The  truth  is,  (as  a  judicious 
writer  observes  upon  it,)  "It  is  at  best  but  a  lame 
and  mishapened  charity;  it  has  more  of  pride 
than  goodness.  We  should  learn  of  tiie  holy  JesUS, 
who  WHS  not  only  meek,  but  lowly.  We  should 
contemn  the  injury,  and  pity  the  weakness;  but 
should  not  disdain  or  despise  the  persons  of  our 
enemies.  Ciiarity  vaunteth  not  herself,  is  not 
puffed  up,  d^th  not  behave  itself  unseemly." — See 
Scougal's  Duty  of  loving  our  Enemies. 

[30]  In  the  mornitig  remember  to  say  to  thyself: 
T  lis  day  perhaps  I  may  meet  with  some  imperti- 
nent, ungrateful,  peevish,  trickinpf,  envious,  chur- 
lish fellow.  N  )vv  all  these  ill  qualities  in  them 
proceed  from  their  ignorance  of  good  and  evil. 
And  since  I  am  so  happy  as  to  understand  the  na- 
tural beauty  of  a  good  action,  and  the  deformity 
of  an  ill  one;  and  since  the  person  that  disobliges 
me  is  of  near  kin  tome;  and  fhough  not  just  the 
same  blood  and  family,  yet  of  the  sam^  divine  ex- 
tract as  to  his  mind;  and  finally,  since  I  am  con- 
vinced that  no  one  can  do  me  a  real  ir.jury,  be- 
cause he  cannot  force  me  to  do  a  dishonest  thing: 
for  these  reasons  I  cannot  find  in  my  heart  to  hate 
him,   or  so  miich  as  to  be  ansjry  with  him. 

Mrrc.  Anton.  Madit.   book.   ii.  §   1. 

You  are  just  taking  leave  of  the  world;  and 
have  you  not  yet  learned  to  be  friends  with  every 
b>>dv?  And  that  to  be  an  honest  mail,  is  the  ordy 
way  to  be  a  wise  one?  Id.  book  iv.  §  37. 

To  expect  an  impossibility  is  madness:  it  is  im- 
possible  for  ill  men  not  to  do  ill  things 

Id.  book  V.   §  1 7. 


ftELF-KNOWLEDOE  237 

It  is  <he  privilege  of  human  nature  above  brntetf 
to  love  those  thai  offend  us.  In  order  to  this,  con- 
•ider  Mrst,  That  the  ofloiiding  party  is  of  kin  to  you. 
Secondly,  That  he  acts  thus,  because  lie  knew-;  no 
better.  Thirdly,  He  may  have  no  design  lo  .-trmd 
you.  Fourthy,  You  will  huth  of  you  (|uickly  be  in 
your  graves.  But  above  all,  fifthly,  You  have  re- 
ceived no  harm  from  him:  f.r  your  mind  or  rea- 
son is  the  same  as  it  was.  before. 

Id.  book  vii.  §  22. 

Think  upon  your  la>t  hour,  and  d-*  not  trouble 
yourself  about  other  people's  faults,  but  leave 
tiicm    where  the\  must  l>e  answered  for. 

Mu-c.  Anton.  Mcdit.  book  vii.  §  29. 

Do  not  return  the  temper  of  ill-natured  people 
upon  themselves,  nor  treat  them  as  they  do  (he 
rest  of  mankind.  //.  bo  )k  vii.  §  55. 

Thougli  the  god=!  are  immortal,  yet  they  not  on- 
ly patiently  bear  with  a  wicked  world  through 
So  many  ages;  but,  what  is  mt^re,  liberally  pro- 
vide for  it:  and  are  you,  who  are  just  going  off 
the  stage,  -.veirv  ^vi^ii  bearing,  thousjh  you  are 
one  of  those  unhappy  mortals  yourself? 

Id.  book  vii.  §  70. 

Never  disturb  yourself;  for  men  will  d*)  the 
same  untoward  actions  over  again,  thongh  you 
burst  with  spleen.  Id.  book  viii.  §  4. 

Reform  an  injurious  person  if  you  can;  if  not, 
remember  your  patience  was  given  you  to  bear 
with  him.  The  gods  patiently  bear  with  such 
men,  and  sometimes  bestow  upon  them  health,  and 
fame,  and  fortune.  Id.  book  ix.  §  11. 

When  people  treat  you  ill,  and  show  their  spite, 
and  slander  you,  enter  into  their  little  souls,  go  to 
the  bottom  of  them,  search  their  understandings; 


238  NOTES    ON 

and  you  will  soon  see,  that  nothing  they  may  think 
or  say  of  you  need  give  you  one  troublesome 
thought.  Id.  book  ix.  §  27. 

That  is  the  best  thing  for  a  mar.,  which  God 
sends  him;  and  that  is  the  best  time,  when  he 
sends  it.  Id.  book  x.  §  20. 

It  is  sometimes  a  hard  matter  to  be  certain, 
whether  you  have  received  ill  usage  or  not;  for 
men's  actions  oftentimes  look  wore  than  they  are: 
and  one  must  be  thoroughly  informed  of  a  great 
many  things,  before  he  can  rightly  judfje. 

Marc.  Anton.  Med  it.  book  xi.  §  16. 

Consider  how  much  more  you  often  suffer  from 
your  anger  and  grief,  than  from  those  very  things 
for  which  you  are  angry  and  grieved, 

Id.  book  i.  §  18. 

When  you  fancy  any  one  hath  trangressed,  say 
thus  to  yourself:  How  do  I  know  this  is  a  fault? 
But  admit  it  is,  it  may  be  his  conscience  hath  cor- 
rected him;  and  then  he  hath  received  his  pun- 
ishment from  himself.  Id.  book  xii.  §  16. 

To  these  I  shall  add  two  more  quotations  out 
of  the  sacred  writings,  of  incomparably  greater 
weight  and  dignity  than  any  of  the  foremention- 
ed. 

The  discretion  of  a  man  deferreth  his  anger: 
and  it  is  his  glory  to  pass  over  a  tratisgression. 

Prov.  xix.  11. 

If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him;  if  he  thirst, 
give  him  drink:  for  in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap 
coals  of  tire  on  his  head.  Be  not  overcome  of  e- 
vil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good. 

Roin.  xii.  20,  21. 

[31]  The  wise  and  prudent  conquer   difficulties 
By  daring  to  attempt  them.     Sloth  and  Folly 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  239 

Shiver  and  shrink  at  sight  of  toil  and  danger^ 
And  make  th'  impossibility  they  fuar. 

Rowe» 

[32]    Perhaps  e'en   these  in  memory  may   dc" 
light. 

[33]  How  different  (*rom  this  in  the  judgment 
of  Phitarch  in  this  maitpr?  who,  in  his  Oration 
concerning  the.  Fortune  <ind  of  Virtue  Alexander^  exalts 
him  into  a  true  hero;  aiid  justifies  all  (he  wasie  he 
made  of  mankind  under  a  pretence  of  civihzing 
them;  the  s;ime  colour  with  wliich  the  Spaniards 
excused  their  inhuman  barbarities  towards  the  poor 
Indians.  And  in  ailribuling  all  his  success  to  his 
virtues,  he  talks  more  like  a  soldier  serving  undef 
him  in  his  wars,  than  a  historian  who  lived  many 
years  afterwards,  whose  bu^iness  it  was  to  transmit 
his  character  impartially  to  future  ages.  And  in 
whatever  other  respects  Mr.  Drvden  may  give  the 
preference  to  Plutarch  before  Seneca,  (wliich  he 
does  with  much  zeal  in  his  Preface  to  Plutarch's 
Lives,)  yet  it  must  be  allowed  that,  in  this  in- 
stance at  least,  the  latter  shows  more  of  the  phi- 
losopher.—  See  Pint.  Mor.  vol.  i.  ad  tin. 

[34]         That  gaineth  a  wicked  gain. 

Oh,  sons  of  earth!  attempt  ye  ?till  to  rise 
By  mountains  piTd  on  muuntains  to  the  skies? 
Hcav'n  still  with  laughter  the  vain  toil  surveys, 
And  buries  madmen  in  the  heaps  they  raise. 
Who  wickedly  is  wise,  or  rnndly  nravc, 
Is  but  the  more  a  fool,  the  more  a  knave. 

Pope's  Essny  on  Man, 


Mo  frOTES   61? 

[35]  Socrates'  saying,  That  he  knew  nothin| 
bii  liis  ij^nora.ice  of  every  thing,  savoured  of  an 
affected  liumilii}.  But  they  that  folh;v. ed  went 
further;  and  paticularly  Arcesihis;  who  denied 
thai  he  kne«v  ai.y  thing,  eveti  that  which  Socrates 
admitted  as  an  exception.  And  thut*  the  absurdity 
grtu  to  a  size  li»a(  was  monstrous.  "For  to  know 
that  one  knows  noliitHii,,  is  a  contradiction;  aid  not 
to  know  Uiat  he  knows  even  that,  is  not  to  know 
but  that  he  may  know  something."' 

Relig.  of  A'aL  del.  p.  40. 

[36]  Nothing  can  be  more  unhappy  than  that 
man,  wlio  ranges  every  wiiere,  ransacks  evej'y 
thing,  digs  into  the  bowels  of  th^s  earth,  dives  into 
other  men's  bosoms,  but  does  not  consider  all  the 
while  that  his  own  mind  will  aff-^id  him  sufficient 
scope  for  inquiry  and  entertainment  and  that  the 
care  and  improvement  of  himself  will  give  him 
business  enough,  Id.   lib.  ii.  §  13.    . 

Your  disposition  will  be  suitable  to  that  which 
you  most  frequently  think  of;  for  the  snul  is,  as 
it  were,  tinged  with  the  colour  and  complexion  of 
its  own  thoughts.  Id.  lib.  v.  §  16. 

[37]  The  Christian  precept  in  this  case  is,  "Let 
Jiot  tlie  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath."  Eph.  iv. 
36.  And  this  precept  Plutarch  tells  us  the  Py- 
thagoreans practised  in  a  literal  sense:  "Who,  if, 
at  any  time  in  a  passion,  they  broke  out  into  op- 
probrious language  before  sun-set,  gave  one  an- 
other their  hands,  and  with  them  a  discharge 
from  all  injuries;  and  so  with  a  mutual  reconcilia- 
tion, parted  friends."     Plut,  Mor.  vol.  iii.  p.  89. 


5ELF-KN0WLE»«E.  *24l 

[38]  Malice  itself  drinks  in  the  best  part  of  its 
6wn  poison.  Tliat  of  serpents  is  deadly  to  otiiers, 
but  harmless  to  themselves.  This  has  no  resem- 
blance to  it;  it  is  deadliest  to  its  possessors. 

Sen.  ep.  82. 

[39]  And  he  who  meditates  a  crirhe  within, 
Incurs  the  penalty  of  practis'd  sin. — Hodgson. 

[40]  This  method  is  peculiarly  distinguished  by 
the  facility  with  which  any  individual  subject  may 
be  found  oat  and  turned  to  in  the  midst  of  a  mul- 
tiplicity of  other    subjects.     The    index  for   this 
purpose  is  formed,  first  of  the  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet regularly   arranged,  and   at  a  convenient  dis- 
tance from  each    other,  along   the  outer  and  de- 
scending margin  of  the  book.     The  space  allotted 
to   each  letter  is  next   divided  into  five  smaller 
compartments,  one   for  each  of  the  vowels.     The 
book  is  then   to   be   paged  regularly  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end:  and  the   general   name  of  the 
subject,  into  whatever  part  of  the  book  it  is  copi- 
ed, is  finally  to  be  entered  in  the  index,  under  the 
general  division  to  which   its  initial  letter  refers, 
and  in  that  compartment  of  the  division  which  con- 
stitutes its  first  vowel:  the  pages  being  next  added 
into  which  the  subject  has  been   written.     Thus, 
the  subject  of  Knowledge  would  necessarily  be  en- 
tered in   the  index  under  K  o,  these  letters   being 
the  intial  and  the  first  vowel   of  the  word.     If  the 
"Word  commence  with  a  vowel,  and  be  at  the  same 
timt'  ft  monosyllable,  but  not  otherwise,  Mr  Locke 
proposes  that  such  vowel  should  form  hoth  the  ini- 
tial and  the  vowel  itself:  thus  Art  and  Ant  would 

21 


il42  NOTES    ©N 

both  stand  under  A  a;  and  Ox  and  Ore  Under  0©» 

'"-Editor. 

[41]  Let  every  one  of  us  please  his  neighbour 
for  his  good  to  edification.— /?om.  xv.  22. 

To  the  weak  became  1  weak,  that  I  might  gain 
ihe  weak:  I  am  made  all  thii.gj.  to  all  men,  that 
I  might  by  all  means  save  some.— 1   Cor.  ix.  22. 

[42]  What  you  have  once  wisely  proposed,  stick 
to  as  a  law  not  to  be  violated  without  guilt.  And 
MTiind  not  what  others  say  of  you. 

[43]  Fix  your  character,  and  keep  to  itj  wheth= 
tT  alone  or  in  company. 

[44j  Nor  do  I  apprehend  the  knowledge  of  our 
state  (call  it  assurance  if  you  please)  so  utjcommon 
and  extraordinary  a  thing  as  some  are  apt  to  ima- 
gine. Understand  by  assurance  a  satisfactory  evi- 
dence of  the  thing,  such  as  excludes  all  reasona- 
ble doubts  and  disquieting  fears  of  the  contra- 
ry, though,  it  may  be,  not  all  transient  suspicion* 
and  jealousies.  And  such  an  assurance  and  certain- 
ty multitudes  have  attained,  and  enjoy  the  comfort 
of;  and  indeed  it  is  of  so  high  importance,  that 
it  is  a  wonder  any  thoughtful  Christian,  that  be- 
lieves an  eternity,  can  be  easy  one  week  or  day 
without  it.  Bennetts  Christ,  Oral.  p.  569. 

[45]  If  you  are  told  that  another  reviles  you,  do 
not  go  about  to  vindicate  yourself,  but  reply  thus: 
My  other  faults,  I  fi'.d,  are  hid  from  him,  else  I 
should  have  heard  of  them  too. 


geLF-KNOWLEDCE.  243 


t 


[46]  It  is  not  things,  but  men's  opinions  of  thing?, 
that  disturb  them. 

Remember,  it  is  not  ho  that  reviles  or  assaults 
you,  that  injures  you,  but  your  thinking  that  lie 
has  injured  you. 

No  man  can  hurt  you,  unless  you  please  to  let 
him:  (hen  only  are  you  hurt,  when  you  ihink  your- 
self so. 

Thins?  do  not  touch  the  mind,  but  stand  quiet- 
ly without:  the  vexation  comes  from  within,  from 
our  suspicions  only. 

Again: 

Things  themsclvos  cannot  affect  the  mind;  for 
they  have  no  entrance  into  it,  to  turn  and  move 
it.  It  is  the  miiul  alone  that  turns  and  moves  it- 
self. 

[47]  He  who  knows  himself  vvell,  abases  him- 
self; nor  is  tickled  by  human  flatteries. 

[48]  The  less  a  man  sees  of  himself,  the  less 
he  is  disgusted  with  himself. 

[49]  I  am  confident  that  no  mnn  can  be  saved 
without  a  knowledge  of  himself:  wiience,  indeed, 
springs  the  source  of  salvation — humility,  and  the 
fear  of  the  Lord. 

A  knowledge  of  God  and  of  thyself  are  both 
necessary  to  salvation;  for  as  from  a  knowledge 
of  thyself  proceeds  the  fear  of  God,  and  from  a 
knowledge  of  God,  love  of  him;  so,  on  the  con- 
trary, from  ignorance  of  thyself  proceeds  pride, 
and  from  ignorance  of  God  utter  ruin. 


244  NOTES    ON 

[50]  '(CHRIST.)  My  son,  when  thou  feelest 
thy  soul  warmed  with  devotion  and  holy  zeal  for 
my  service,  it  w^ill  be  advisable  to  decline  all  those 
laiethods  of  publishing  it  to  the  world,  which  vain 
men  are  so  industrious  to  take,  and  content  thy- 
self with  its  being  known  to  GOD  and  thine  own 
conscience.  Rather  endeavour  to  moderate  and 
suppress  those  pompous  expressions  of  it,  in 
which  some  plrce  the  very  perfection  of  zeal. 
Think  meanly  of  thy  own  virtues. — Some  men,  of 
a  bold  ungoverned  zeal,  aspire  at  things  beyond 
their  strength,  and  express  more  vehemence  than 
conduct  in  their  actions.  They  are  perfectly  car- 
ried out  of  themselves  with  eagerness;  forget  that 
they  are  still  poor  insects  upon  earth,  and  think  of 
iiotiiing  less  than  building  their  nest  in  heaven. 
Now  these  are  often  left  to  themselves,  and  taught 
by  sad  experience,  that  the  faint  flutterings  of  men 
are  weak  and  ineffectual;  and  that  none  soars  to 
heaven  except  I  assist  his  flight,  and  mount  him  on 
my  own  wings. — Virtue  does  not  consits  in  abund- 
ance of  illumination  and  knowledge:  but  in  lowli- 
ness of  mind,  in  mer.knese,  and  charity ;  in  a  mind 
entirely  resigned  to  God,  and  sincerely  disposed 
to  serve  and  please  him;  in  a  just  sense  of  a  man's 
own  vileness:  and  not  only  thinking  very  meanly 
of  one's  self,  but  being  well  content  to  be  so 
thought  of  by  others.'  Id.  book  iii.  c.  8. 

'It  is  a  dangerous  drunkenness,  I  confess,  that  of 
wine:  but  there  is  another  more  dangerous.  How 
many  souls  do  I  see  in  the  world  drunk  with  vanw 
ty,  and  a  high  opinion  of  themselves?  This 
drunkenness  causes  them  to  make  a  thousand 
false  steps,  and  a  thousand  stumble.  Their  ways 
are  all  oblique  and  crooked.     Like  men  in  drink, 


^ELF-KNOWLEDfiE  24S 

they  have  always  a  great  opinion  of  their  own  wis- 
dom, their  power,  and  their  prudence:  all  which  of- 
ten fail  them. — Examine  well  thys^elf,  my  soul;  see 
if  thou  art  not  tainted  with  this  evil.  Ala?,  if  thou 
denies!  it,  thou  provest  it.  It  is  great  pnde,  to 
think  one  ha?  no  pride;  for  it  is  to  think  you  arc 
as  good,  indeed,  as  you  esteem  yourself.  But  there 
is  no  man  in  the  world,  but  esteems  himself  better 
than  he  truly  is. 

'Thou  wilt  say,  it  may  be,  thou  hast  a  very  ill 
opinion  of  thyself.  Bui  be  assured,  my  soul,  Ihou 
dost  not  despise  thyself  so  much  as  thou  art  truly 
despicable.  If  thou  dost  despise  thyself  indeed, 
thou  makest  a  merit  of  that  very  thing:  so  that 
pride  is  attached  to  this  very  contempt  of  thyself.' 
— Jcrieii's  Method  of  Dcvolion,  p.  3.  chap.   10. 

[51]  The  great  God  seems  to  have  given  that 
commandment,  Knon;  thyself  to  those  men  more 
especially,  who  arc  apt  to  make  remarks  on  other 
men's  actions,  and  forget  themselves. — Plut.  J\Ior, 
vol.  i,  p.  273. 

[52]  I  spare  myself,  says  Ma?vius. — Dotins:  fool! 
This  is  a  fondness  hissed  through  every  school. 
But  to  yourself  thus  blind,  thus  blear-eyed, 

why 
Pxy  you  through  others  with  a  lynx's  eye? — 

liar. 
It  happens,  I  know  not  how,  that  whenever  any 
thing  is  wrong,  we  see  it  much  sooner  in  other  per- 
sons than  in  ourselves. — Cicero. 

[53]  Riches,  honours,  power,  and  the  like,  which 
owe  all  their  worth  to  our  false  opinion  of  tiiem 

21* 


246  NOTES    ON 

are  too  apt  to  draw  the  heart  from  virtue.  We 
know  not  how  to  prize  them;  the)  are  not  to  be 
judged  of  by  the  comnnon  vogue,  but  by  their  own 
nature.  They  have  nothing  to  attract  our  esteem, 
but  that  we  are  used  to  admire  them;  they  are 
not  cried  up  becanse  they  are  things  that  ought 
to  be  desired,  but  they  are  desired  because  they 
are  generally  cried  up. — Sen.  epist.  02. 

[54]  He  who  knows  himself,  makes  the  most 
genuine  prayer  to  God. —  Greg. 

[55]  It  is  this  makes  us  averse  to  death,  that  it 
translates  us  to  things  we  are  unacquainted  with, 
and  we  tremble  at  the  thought  of  those  things  that 
are  unknown  to  us.  We  are  naturally  afraid  of 
being  in  the  dark;  and  death  is  a  leap  in  the  dark, 
— Sen,  epist.   83. 

[56]  Who,  expos'd  to  others'  eyes, 
Into  his  own  heart  ne'er  pries, 
Death's  to  him  a  strange  surprise. 

[57]  Some  men  admire  the  heights  of  moun- 
tains, the  huge  waves  of  the  sea,  the  steep  falls 
of  rivers,  the  compass  of  the  ocean,  and  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  stars,  and  pass  by  themselves  without 
admiration. — St.  Augustine. 

[58]  Who  can  sufficiently  admire  the  noble  na- 
ture of  that  creature  man,  who  hath  in  him  the 
mortal  and  the  immortal,  the  rational  and  irration- 
al natures  united,  and  so  carries  about  with  him  the 
image  of  the  whole  creation;  whence  he  is  called 
microcosm)  or  the  little  world ;  for  whose  sake  (so 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE  247 

highly  is  he  honoured  by  God)  all  thinj^s  are  made, 
both  present  and  future;  nay,  for  whoso  sake  GOD 
himself  became  man? 

So  that  it  was  not  unjustly  said  by  Gregory 
Nessene,  that  man  was  the  macrocosm,  (the  great 
world,)  and  the  world  without  the  microcosm. 

[69]  At  thirty  man  suspects  himself  a  fool, 
Knows   it  at  forty,  ai'd  leforms  his  plan; 
At  tifty  chides  his  infamous  delay, 
Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve; 
111  all  the  matruanimity  of  Ihoujrlit, 
Resolves,  and  rc-resolves — then  dirs  the  same* 

JVight  Thoughts. 

[60]  This  makes  us  worst  of  all,  that  no  man 
examines  into  his  own  life.  What  we  are  going 
to  do  we  may  perhaps  think  about,  though  rarely: 
what  we  ouglit  to  do  we  never  think  about. — Sen. 
e^Ut.  84. 

[61]  Let  not  your  eyes  the  sweets  of  slum-  "^ 

her  taste  j 

Till    keen,  severe   reflections  you  have    )► 

pass'd  [ 

On  the  day's  actions,  thrice  from  first  last.  J 

What  done  have  1?     Wherein  have  I  Irans- 

gress'd  ? 
What  virtue  cherish'd,  and  what  vice  repress'd? 
A'.d  if,  on  search,  your  actions  ill  you  find, 
Let  grief;  if  good,  let  joy  possess  your  mind. 
This  do,  this  tnink,  to  this  your  heart  iiicline- 
This  way  w.ill  lead  you  to  the  life  divine. 


/248  '»OTE3    ON 

[62]  Parallel  to  this  advice  of  the  royal  preach- 
er is  that  of  the  imperial  piulosopher: 

"Look  within:  for  within  is  the  fountain  of 
^ood." 

[63]  The  foolish  and  inconsiderate  spoil  the  ve- 
ry friendships  they  are  engaged  in;  but  tlie  wise 
and  prudent  make  good  use  of  the  hatred  and  en- 
mity of  men  against  them. 

Why  should  we  not  take  an  enemy  for  our  tu- 
tor, who  will  instruct  us  gratis  in  those  things  we 
knew  not  before?  For  an  enemy  sees  and  under- 
stands more  in  matters  relating  to  us  than  our 
friends  do.  Because  love  is  blind;  out  spite,  mal- 
ice, ill-will,  wrath,  and  contempt,  talk  much,  and 
are  very  inquisitive  and  quick-sighted. 

Our  enemy,  to  gratify  his  ill-will  tovCards  us,  ac- 
quaints himself  with  the  infirmities  both  of  our 
bodies  and  minds;  sticks  to  our  faults,  and  makes 
his  invidious  remarks  upon  them,  and  spreads  thenn 
abroad  by  his  uncharitable  and  ill-natured  reports. 
Hence  we  are  taught  this  useful  lesson  for  the  di- 
rection and  management  of  our  conversation  in 
the  world,  viz.  that  we  be  circumspect  and  wary 
in  every  thing  we  speak  or  do,  as  if  our  enemy 
always  stood  at  our  elbow,  and  overlooked  our  ac- 
tions. 

Those  persons,  whom  that  wisdom  hath  brought 
to  live  soberly,  which  the  fear  and  awe  of  enemies 
hath  infused,  are  by  degrees  drawn  into  a  habit  of 
living  so,  and  are  composed  and  tised  in  their  obe- 
dience to  virtue  by  custom  and  use. 

When  one  asked  Diogenes  how  he  might  be  a-, 
venged  of  his  enemies,  he  replied,  "To  be  your- 
self a  good  and  honest  man.'' 


SELF-KNOW^LEDGE.  249 

Anlisthenes  spake  incomparably  well ;  "that,  if 
a  man  would  live  a  safe  and  unblameable  life,  it 
was  necessary  that  he  should  have  very  ingcnous 
and  faithful  friends,  or  very  bad  enemies:  because 
the  first  by  their  kind  admonitions  would  keep 
him  from  sinning,  the  latter  by  their  invectives." 

He  that  hath  no  friend  to  give  him  advice,  or  re- 
prove him  when  he  does  amiss,  must  bear  patient- 
ly the  rebukes  of  his  enemies,  and  thereby  learn 
to  mend  the  errors  of  his  ways;  considering  seri- 
ously the  object  which  these  severe  censures  aim 
at,  and  not  what  he  is  wlio  makct!  them.  For  he 
who  designed  the  death  of  Prometheus,  the  Thes- 
salian,  instead  of  giving  him  a  fatal  blow,  only  o- 
pened  a  swelling  which  he  had,  which  did  really 
save  his  life.  Just  so  may  the  harsh  reprehen- 
sions of  enemies  cure  some  distempers  of  the  mind, 
which  were  before  either  not  known  or  neglected; 
though  their  angry  speeches  do  originally  proceed 
from  malice  or  ill-will. 

If  any  man,  withoj)probrious  language,  objects  to 
you  crimes  you  know  nothing  of,  you  ought  to  in- 
quire into  the  causes  or  reasons  of  such  false  accusa- 
tions; whereby  you  may  learn  to  take  heed  fortlie 
future,  least  you  should  unwarily  commit  those  of- 
fences which  are  unjustly  imputed  to  yon. 

Whenever  any  thing  is  spoken  against  you  that 
is  not  true,  do  not  pass  it  by,  or  despise  it,  because 
it  is  false;  but  forthwith  examine  yourself,  aiid  con- 
sider what  you  have  said  or  done  that  may  adnan- 
ister  a  just  occasion  of  reproof. 

Nothing  can  be  a  greater  instance  of  wisdom 
and  humanity,  than  for  a  man  to  bear  silently  and 
quietly  the  follies  and  rcvilings  of  an  enemy ;  tak- 


250  NOTES    ON    SELF-KNOWLEDGB; 

ing  as  much  care  not  to  provoke  him  as  he  would 
to  sail  safely  bj  a  dangerous  rock. 

It  is  an  emineiit  piece  of  humanity,  and  a  mani- 
fest token  of  a  Latuie  truly  generous,  to  put  up 
with  the  affronts  of  an  enemy,  at  a  time  when  you 
have  a  lair  opportunity  to  revenge  them. 

Let  us  carefully  observe  those  good  qualities 
wherein  our  enemies  excel  us.  And  endeavour 
to  excel  them,  by  avoiding  what  is  faulty,  and  im- 
itating what  is  excellent  ir  ilie. 

Plut.  Mor,  vol.  i.  p.  265.  et  esp. 

[64]  He  who  thoroughly  desires  to  know  what 
he  ought  to  be,  should  study  tliose  that  exhibit 
what  he  is  not:  as  a  man  best  sees  his  own  de- 
fects in  a  correct  form. —  Greg, 

[65]  If  any  one  can  convince  me  that  I  am 
wrong  in  any  point  of  sentiment  or  practice,  1  will 
alter  it  with  all  my  heart.  For  it  is  truth  I  seek; 
and  that  can  hurt  nobody.  It  is  only  persisting 
in  error  or  ignorance  that  can  hurt  us. — M,  Axi- 
reL 

-  [66]  If  thou  wouldst  estimate  thyself,  put  away 
wealth,  land,  honours;  scrutinize  thyself  within. — 

Sen. 

[67]  The  dwarf  is  a  dwarf  though  on  a  hill:  the 
Colossus  preserves  its  size  in  a  valley. — Sen, 

"Pigmies  are  pigmies  still,  though  plac'd  in  alpsj 
"And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales." 

Mght  Tho^Lghts, 


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